


I Just Wanna Be With You Every Day

by Brego_Mellon_Nin



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Sex, Assault, Banter, Blow Jobs, Car Sex, Caught in Compromising Position, Comeplay, Double Penetration, First Time, Fluff, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Hate Crimes, Hiking, Homophobic Idiots, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Mama Stilinski Feels, Rebuilding the Hale House, Relationship Revelation Fail, Rimming, Romance, Rough Sex, Secret Relationship, Sex Toys, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-21
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-15 16:52:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/851819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brego_Mellon_Nin/pseuds/Brego_Mellon_Nin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When his best friend’s son barrels into the kitchen only dressed in a pair of skintight jeans, lean but defined torso on display, Derek knows he’s truly and utterly fucked. Not only is the kid barely eighteen, but he also happens to be the Sheriff’s only son.</p><p>Derek makes a vow to himself that he will not seek Stiles out and he’ll get this thing under control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The idea of this story was born when I was going through the prompts for the Perverse Bang Fest, deciding which ones to do. When I read the prompt listed below, I knew I had to write it, but it ended up being more about love and romance than perversities, so yeah... I decided not to post it in the Perverse Bang after all.
> 
>  **Prompt:** Character A is the longtime friend of character B's father, but hasn't seen char B since he was very young (he's now 16-18). Sparks fly when they meet, and the two carry on a secretdirtywrong relationship unbeknownst to char B's father. Up to author whether they're found out and what the ramifications are.  
>  Link: [Prompt.](http://perverse-bang.livejournal.com/939.html?thread=6827#t6827)
> 
> Thanks to nmydreamz for pre reading, you are a genius, darling! Thanks to Corey Smith, my awesome beta.
> 
> Last, but never least, hugs to the ever fabulous [Dragontattoo75](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dragontattoo75)! You are the second half to my writer’s soul, girl! :D
> 
>  **Warnings:** There is one instance of hate crime in this story – it’s violent, but only mentioned in a non-explicit flashback. Otherwise, if you have issues with age difference in a relationship or slash (boy on boy) you might wanna reconsider reading this one.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Nah, still don’t own Teen Wolf, and I’m ever so grateful it’s in the capable hands of Jeff Davis, who’s doing an amazing job with it! You know, apart from not making Sterek canon :P

 

**I Just Wanna Be With You Every Day**

 

**Chapter 1**

 

When his best friend’s son barrels into the kitchen dressed only in a pair of skintight jeans, lean but defined torso on display, Derek knows he’s truly and utterly fucked.

 

Not only is the boy barely eighteen, but he also happens to be the Sheriff’s only son. The Sheriff, who is now grinning in Derek’s direction.

 

“Derek, you remember Stiles, I presume?”

 

Derek quickly shakes himself out of the daze and gives the boy a big smile.

 

“Of course I remember him, he used to talk my ear off, always trying to convince me Batman was cooler than Superman.”

 

Stiles is blushing a bit, looking kind of shell shocked, but manages a crooked smile.

 

“Yes, well, you clearly lost the argument back then, Officer Hale.”

 

Derek willfully ignores the heat pooling in his groin when Stiles’ lips form the words, his long fingers flicking around in accompanying gestures. While his chest is hairless, there is a trail of dark hair running downward from the kid’s navel into his jeans. The last time Derek saw him, Stiles had been an awkward bag of bones, always tripping over himself and with an ugly buzz cut to boot. Now, he’s defined and more harmonic, his hair artfully ruffled and just long enough to grab onto.

 

He stops himself with an internal cringe. Oh God, he comes back after six years duty in another precinct, and the first thing he does is entertain inappropriate fantasies about the son of his longtime friend, now also his boss?

 

“Please, Stiles, call me Derek,” he says with another smile in the boy’s direction. If his sister could see him now, she’d taunt him for exceeding his yearly smile-quota.

 

Stiles beams at him and then redirects his gaze to his father.

 

“Um, so, I’m just gonna go grab my gear. I’m meeting Scott for some practice. See you later. You too, Derek!”

 

The Sheriff grunts and waves as Stiles tramples up the stairs, and Derek is left sitting with an awkward and _very_ inappropriate boner from watching the boy’s ass wiggle and his back muscles flex as he moved. Which is just great; what a lovely reunion this has been.

 

 

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After that first night, Derek makes a vow to himself that he will not seek Stiles out and he’ll get this _thing_ under control. So it’s pure coincidence which leads him to drive past the lacrosse field one evening, seeing Stiles running with a friend, goofing around and trying to score goals against each other. The boy moves a lot more gracefully than Derek would’ve expected, feigning and dodging flawlessly, his whole demeanor exuding a confidence that draws Derek in, makes it impossible for him to look away.

 

Even though he knows he shouldn’t tempt fate, his whole body is urging him to talk to Stiles, to get closer to the boy. To at least become some sort of friend, having an excuse to spend time with him.

 

Later that night, when he’s home alone in his apartment, he suddenly finds himself thinking of Stiles’ long, elegant fingers; imagining what Stiles could do with them - what he could do to _Derek_ with them. He ends up in the shower, jerking himself in rough pulls while thinking about what Stiles would look like, sucking him off, right here under the spray.

 

Afterwards, burrowed under his blanket, Derek almost feels ashamed of what he just did. At the age of thirty-four he’s had a few romances in his life and a long line of one night stands, but he’s never felt like his boyfriends have been ‘the one’.  Derek always thought that when the right guy showed up, he’d just _know_ , and be able to make room in his life for this someone. Never in his wildest dreams did he consider his best friend’s teenage son a candidate, though.

 

 

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He’s been in town for about two weeks when he runs into Stiles again. Derek is out buying groceries on his day off when he decides to grab a burger at the local diner, before heading back to his apartment. When he steps in, there are quite a few people seated, but a certain laugh draws his gaze to the corner booth, in the back. Stiles is sitting there with his friend and a dark haired girl, talking and giggling.

 

Derek gives his order and looks around for a place to sit. There is a empty table a little to the right of Stiles’ group, so Derek heads in that direction, hoping to be able to do a little surreptitious observation while eating. He doesn’t get far though, before an excited voice calls out, “Derek!”

 

He looks up and sees Stiles smiling and waving at him, his two friends looking slightly confused at the sudden outburst. Derek grins and walks over.

 

“Hi, Stiles.”

 

The boy’s smile turns up a notch and he gestures to his friends, “This is Scott and his girlfriend Allison. Guys, this is Derek, he used to live here, but apparently Beacon Hills wasn’t exciting enough so he went to New York, the big traitor!”

 

Derek huffs and frowns at Stiles, upgrading it to a scowl when Scott laughs.

 

“You wanna sit?” Stiles asks, and Derek only hesitates for a couple seconds before nodding and squeezing in next to the boy on the bench. For a while, he listens to Stiles talk about his evil chemistry teacher, Mr. Harris, and tries to tune out the sounds of kissing and whispering from the other side of the table. Apparently, not even the presence of a stranger is enough to get Scott and Allison to behave like they’re actually in public.

 

When a particularly wet smooching reaches his ears, Derek clears his throat and turns to Stiles.

 

“Are they always like this when you are out with them?”

 

Stiles snorts and throws an exasperated, but obviously fond, look at his friends.

 

“Yes, they’re, like, sickeningly sweet. Most people can’t stand to be near them for very long. I manage because I’m awesome!” he says, a gorgeous, crooked smile on his face. Derek has a suspicion though, that perhaps Stiles puts up with the overwhelming public display, because he doesn’t have too many other friends to go hang out with. Kids are always mean to those who are different, whether it be in appearance or behavior, so it seems logical Stiles would have issues with his ADHD.

 

Suddenly Derek realizes that his infatuation would probably go away if he found out if Stiles has a girlfriend. If the boy is taken, there’s no need to continue to feel all guilty about wanting him, because it won’t happen. Besides, what high school boy _doesn’t_ have a girlfriend, or several? Granted, Stiles is only in high school until summer, when he graduates, but still.

 

“So, where’s _your_ girlfriend?” Derek asks, trying to seem honestly cheerful.

 

Stiles makes a face and looks away, a blush spreading on his cheeks.

 

“I, um, I don’t have one,” the boy says before shooting a quick glance at Derek, the flush spreading down his neck as well. “I’m gay.”

 

Derek’s stomach does a weird somersault and he can’t really decide whether he wants to cry - because how on Earth is he supposed to _not_ think about being with Stiles now? - or do an enthusiastic happy dance, flailing and singing included.

 

Eventually, he manages to plaster a somewhat serious expression on his face.

 

“Oh, right. Well, it’s nothing to be ashamed about, I certainly don’t mind. That’d be _very_ hypocritical of me,” Derek adds with a wink. Stiles’ jaw drops and he stares, wide eyed. It looks like his pupils are a little blown, but Derek figures it could have been caused by the lighting or perhaps it’s merely wishful thinking.

 

Stiles sputters, “You-? You’re..also?”

 

Derek chuckles, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

 

“Yes, I am.”

 

The boy squirmed slightly in his seat, smiling tentatively. Derek is about to change the subject, since the current one seems to bother Stiles, when Scott disengages from Allison and starts talking to Stiles again, something about a lacrosse game coming up. Derek finishes his burger and says goodbye, driving home in a very distracted state. In fact, he probably should have given himself a ticket for careless driving.

 

The thoughts are whirling around in his head, a dizzying mix of desire and shame raging in his system. Derek has never before felt an attraction like this, and yet it’s so _wrong_. It’s his boss’s son, an eighteen year old, for heaven’s sake! Usually, he never, _ever_ breaks the rules, always behaves in a manner appropriate for a cop, but this boy has somehow gotten under his skin. Derek can’t get those piercing eyes and the blazing smile out of his mind.

 

Another matter to consider is the fact Stiles’ father is one of Derek’s closest friends. Has been, ever since Derek was fresh out of the academy and got his first job with the Beacon Hills police department. Back then, his friend had been Officer Stilinski, but he was already well on his way to earning the title of sheriff. They may not have seen each other much while Derek was working in New York, but they kept in touch.  There are very few men whom Derek trust as implicitly as John Stilinski.

 

Derek spends a good part of his day trying to resist from pulling his hair out in frustration. Technically, Stiles _is_ legal, but he’s not sure Beacon Hills’ citizens, or the sheriff, would care much about that fact, if the boy starts dating a thirty-four year old cop.

 

In an attempt to focus on something, _anything_ else, Derek goes for a run, getting lost in the rhythm of his breathing and his sneakers meeting the asphalt.

 

 

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A couple of weeks after Derek met Stiles in the diner, they meet again.

 

He’s on duty when the station gets a call from one of the local clubs on a Saturday night, regarding a drunk who’s been harassing the bartender. Derek goes out to investigate, parking just in front of the club. He gets out of the car and is met with a deep bass pounding hard enough for him to almost feel the vibrations, even before he gets to the door. When he enters, he’s temporarily blinded by the brightly colored lights and the music is loud enough to almost make him cringe. Yeah, it’s definitely been too long since he’s been out partying. A quick glance around the establishment shows a crowded dance floor, where bodies are moving, writhing, grinding to the beat, couples of all shapes and sizes, and genders too!

 

Derek makes his way to the bar, narrowly missing getting felt up by some handsy girls, who seem to be a bit too young to be here. When he asks about the disturbance, the bartender points in the direction of the toilets and Derek finds the guy there, passed out in the doorway, snoring loudly. He ends up hauling the moron out into the back of his patrol car. The guy can spend the night at the station, sleeping it off.

 

When he goes back in to talk to the bartender, a glimmer of red catches his eye. Derek turns towards it per reflex and he’s pretty sure his jaw drops enough to actually thud onto the floor, like one of those silly cartoon characters.

 

It’s Stiles.

 

Correction; it’s Stiles in black skinny jeans and a red shirt that clings to his torso like a second skin. His hair isn’t raised in its usual spikes, but styled forward so it falls over his face, almost covering one of his gorgeous eyes.

 

Eyes which are rimmed in black eyeliner, accentuating the sensual look and bringing out the bright, golden color.

 

The whole outfit makes the boy look much older than he is, and there’s a weird clenching sensation in Derek’s stomach. Shit, Stiles looks absolutely delicious! He is in serious danger of popping a boner, while _on duty!_ Fuck! He forces himself to focus on the task at hand to avoid a potentially mortifying situation. He continues to the bar and gets the statement he needs before heading back towards the door.

 

Just when Derek’s about to leave, a hand latches onto his elbow. When he whips around to see who it is, he’s met with the intense gaze of his boss’s son.

 

“Hey, Derek!” Stiles grins at him.

 

His stomach drops and swoops at the same time, which is an oddly conflicting sensation. He can’t help the big smile that forces its way onto his face, though.

 

“Stiles, hi! You having fun?”

 

The boy steps closer, their sides almost touching, which is a little too close for comfort in Derek’s opinion, and gives him that crooked smile.

 

“Yeah, I am. Dancing with my friends. Don’t worry, I’m totally sticking to soda! I guess you’re on duty, what with the uniform and everything, so there’d be no point in asking you to join me, right?” Stiles says, grinning, and winks at Derek. _Winks!_ His brain goes offline for a few seconds and only kicks into gear again when the boy’s fingers tighten on his elbow.

 

“Right. No, I’m on duty. I can’t. Um, I’ll see you around Stiles. Enjoy the rest of your evening,” Derek manages to croak out. He really hopes he doesn’t sound as though he’d like nothing better than to drag Stiles home and ravish him, but it’s a very real possibility, since that is _exactly_ how he feels!

 

Stiles fakes a pout for a second, then lets go of Derek’s elbow, waving quickly before turning around and sauntering back towards the dance floor, immediately getting into the beat.

 

Fuck, does he _have_ to sway his hips so much?

 

Derek is going to have to use some less than fond memories of his grandmother’s underwear collection to keep from getting any harder than he already is. His uniform isn’t exactly ideal for hiding an erection.

 

 

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Sunday afternoon finds him in his Camaro, driving up a gravel road in the woods; one he hasn’t seen in a very long time. At the end, the old Hale house greets him. Derek is currently living in an apartment in town, but he wants to fix up his uncle’s old house so he can move in, preferably before next winter. It’s been standing empty ever since his uncle died almost ten years ago, so it’s probably in need of a serious makeover.

 

Looking at his uncle’s old house is a bittersweet experience. On one hand, he’s got some very fond childhood memories involving this place but, on the other hand, it also reminds him of the many years his uncle was sick before he died, and the whole building sort of has a sad feel to it somehow.

 

Derek has decided to tear most of the walls down and build from scratch, keeping only the existing foundation. He used to help his dad with various carpentry tasks around the house so he’s quite handy with tools and plans to do what he can himself. He might benefit from some help, and his mind can’t stop from wandering where he’s desperately trying not to let it go.

 

He hasn’t been able to get Stiles out of his mind, and to top it off, the boy has now invaded his dreams as well. Almost every night, he’s there; burning, hungry eyes framed in black, wrapping himself around Derek. Arms clinging, legs tangling, heavy breaths and softly whispered words, evolving into passionate gasps and moans, biting kisses and wet tongues running everywhere.

 

More often than not, he wakes up with a raging erection and once or twice even woke up to sticky sheets, which is just _not_ okay for a guy who left puberty behind almost fifteen years ago!

 

Derek doesn’t really know if the phrase ‘love makes blind’ is true, but he can definitely tell that ‘lust makes blind’ is. Lust actually makes him blind, deaf and stupid, to be honest. He craves Stiles’ company, even though he keeps trying to tell himself pursuing the boy is never going to end well, that it is bound to end up with him being fired, brokenhearted and despised. Just to name a few of the consequences.

 

There’s just something deep within him that keeps thrashing, fighting to get him to give in to his desires. It feels wrong, almost hollow, the thought of staying away from Stiles, not seeing the boy apart from the occasional dinner at the Sheriff’s house. It’s not like the boy is going to stay there forever either, and it probably won’t be long until he finds a boyfriend. Then, it will be too late, even if Derek should decide it’d be worth the risks to ask Stiles out on a date. This thought makes Derek’s chest constrict and his breath hitch.

 

God, he’s already way beyond help!

 

He spends most of his day hammering away at the old, decrepit walls, the internal debate on full throttle. Even if he can’t actually ask Stiles to date him, he still really wants to get to know him better. He wants to be a friend to Stiles. It’s not often he wishes for something so deeply that merely a single step closer would be heaven. He is well aware the temptation would be great and it will likely amount to something close to self torture, seeing Stiles working, muscles flexing, and sweating in a tight t-shirt. Okay, he’s kind of getting off track there.

 

He has no indication whether his feelings will be reciprocated so, for now, the whole attraction point is moot anyway. He might very well get a better feel for Stiles after they’ve spent some time together. Derek knows he shouldn’t even be contemplating this scenario, but it’s like Stiles has infected his blood somehow and it’s burning in his veins. He _has_ to be closer to the boy, even if it’s just as a platonic friend.

 

In the end, he decides to ask Stiles if he wants to help out with the rebuild. As well as actually helping Derek with his project, the situation presents a good opportunity to interact with Stiles on a regular basis, and, well, that’s the most beautiful icing on the prettiest fucking cake he’s ever seen.

 

 

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On Monday, Derek tells the Sheriff he’s gonna start working on repairing the Hale property and that he’s realized he could use some help. When he asks if John thinks Stiles would be interested, either in the experience or the money, John nods eagerly, still sorting through the mountain of paperwork on his desk.

 

“Good idea, Derek, I’m sure he’d love that. He’s always moaning about gas money and repairs on that old, decrepit Jeep. You can go ask him when you get off duty, he should be home by then.”

 

There’s a pinch of unease in Derek’s gut. He knows it would be an entirely different answer if the Sheriff knew what thoughts lurked in the recesses of Derek’s mind. However, the feeling is quickly overridden by the part of him wanting to do a victory dance and race off towards the Stilinski house, right the fuck now!

 

The day drags on for what feels like forever, but finally Derek is done for the day, and he drives to the Sheriff’s house with a strange mix of excitement and dread in his stomach. What if Stiles doesn’t want to help? What if he _does?_

 

When Derek gets there, the rusty, blue Jeep is in the driveway so he knocks and enters, calling out a _hello_. There’s no answer, but Derek can hear footsteps from upstairs. He trots up the stairs and walks over to Stiles’ room. A quick glance inside shows it’s empty and Derek has just spun around to call out again, when he hears the shower turn on. Oh, well, he’ll just wait for him.

 

Derek’s curious, so he takes a couple of steps inside the open door and looks around Stiles’ room. It’s fairly neat, a bookcase stuffed full, a desk with his laptop and... an open notebook with pages upon pages of tiny chicken scrawl. Instantly, he feels that familiar itch to get a closer look. His mother used to tell him he’d end up with his nose in something really sticky someday, but Derek has never been able to curb that instinct, which tells him to investigate everything. It’s one of the reasons he’s such a good cop.

 

Eventually, his intense desire to know everything wins out and he steps over to the desk, grabbing the notebook to get a peek at the content. He reads the first line and nearly drops the book.

 

Holy fucking Pope on a pogostick!

 

Derek stares at the words in front of him, but nobody jumps out at him, yelling _“Gotcha!”_ and he’s forced to conclude what he’s reading is neither an elaborate prank or a figment of his imagination. It might as well be, though. He reads a few pages and then skims the rest to be sure it’s more of the same.

 

What the notebook contains, is page after page of vividly described scenarios involving himself and Stiles in some exceedingly compromising positions. The details are on a level which Derek isn’t really sure ‘explicit’ covers. Naturally, the details about his own physique and mannerisms are guesswork, but not entirely inaccurate, and Derek only reads a few pages before his jeans start getting really uncomfortable. He can’t really believe what he’s reading here, but it’s obviously Stiles’ notes. Why on earth would he write such detailed stories, or more like fantasies, if it isn’t something he’s actually wishing for?

 

Derek keeps standing there with his nose in the book even though he should really be running far away right now, because this is so _wrong!_ Or at least, it’s wrong in the eyes of society. Derek’s soul is screaming ‘yes!’ with all its might, demanding he march right into that bathroom and grab the boy and kiss him silly. That’s not how real life works though, and Derek knows it very well. Stiles could be just using this as some sort of way to blow off steam. Perhaps regular gay porn got too boring for him and Derek knows he’s good looking so it really shouldn’t be surprising for a young, single man to choose him to focus on, when nothing real is in sight.

 

One of the stories involves Derek and Stiles cooking breakfast, then evolving into them having sex on the kitchen counter. The way he writes it, so tender and yet so passionate, with plenty of attention paid to the important things, makes Derek’s gut ache.

 

His cock is trapped painfully tight inside his pants and his breathing is irregular and heavy. It’s all he can do not to throw himself on Stiles’ bed, rip his jeans off and go to town, right there, right now!

 

Derek is so preoccupied reading that he doesn’t notice the shower has turned off. He’s still standing wide eyed, his nose almost squished between the pages, when a soft gasp startles him. Derek spins around, simultaneously throwing the book back onto the desk, a guilty wince on his face. Even though he knows who’s going to be there, his heart still thumps violently in his chest when he sees Stiles’ shocked face. The boy stands frozen in the doorway, drops of water rolling down his naked chest. Even while the major part of his brain is panicking at being caught, a small part of Derek still goes slack jawed and begins the metaphorical drooling, because _damn_ , Stiles looks good in nothing but a towel, still wet from his shower!

 

They both remain completely still, Derek breathing hard and Stiles gaping, looking like he wants to be offended, but clearly aware of what Derek had just read. Frankly, Derek is just waiting for the boy to discover the huge hard-on that’s straining the front of his jeans, but Stiles finally breaks the staring contest, lowering his head and blushing profusely.

 

Something in Derek clenches at the sight; he doesn’t want Stiles to think he’s repulsed by the stories. He makes a jerky step forward, stopping instantly when Stiles’ head snaps up, his eyes panicked.

 

“I- I’m sorry, it wasn’t... I didn’t mean to...” he trails off with a broken sound, looking like he’s seriously considering bolting, still only dressed in a flimsy towel.

 

Derek can’t help the involuntary glance he throws at said piece of fabric. There’s a slight bulge visible behind it, and it draws his eyes. He wants to stomp over there and rip the cloth off. Fuck, how he wants to! His own cock twitches in his pants and he can’t help the low moan that escapes. Stiles startles at the sound and his gaze snaps to Derek’s crotch, his eyes widening and pupils dilating, when he sees the obvious strain in the denim. The boy makes an aborted motion of his hand towards his own groin, a strangled noise coming from deep within his throat. The towel is starting to tent and Derek is kind of impressed he’s got enough blood left from his tomato-colored blush to actually manage an erection at this point.

 

Not knowing what the hell to do, Derek just stands there, watching the blatantly obvious progress of Stiles’ hard-on growing. When it seems like the boy’s fully hard, Derek looks up and his eyes connect with Stiles’ honeyed ones. There’s a hunger there, something he recognizes from himself, and it both frightens and exhilarates him. According to society’s rules, Derek’s the predator here; the big, hungry panther sizing up the poor, little deer, but in this moment, as they stand with gazes locked, it feels like they’re equal. Perhaps not in physique, but definitely in mind and soul.

 

In an instinctive move, Derek swipes his tongue out, wetting his lips. He can’t focus on anything but the sheer _need_ to lick Stiles everywhere. The boy’s eyes stay glued to the tantalizing glimpse of pink flesh peeking out between Derek’s lips, emitting a sound like he’s been punched.

 

The next thing Derek knows, there’s a body wrapped around him, hands grabbing, and soft, full lips clashing against his own. Apparently, Stiles has a thing for his tongue; who knew?

 

In that moment, something inside Derek just _shifts,_ and suddenly the guilt and the inappropriateness of it all slides back into a far off corner of his mind. All that matters now is the body in his arms, the needy, desperate sounds Stiles utters and the desire ripping at his restraint. He scoops the boy up and walk them over to the bed, making sure to extend an arm so he won’t crush Stiles when they hit the mattress, Derek still on top.

 

Stiles’ body is lean, but defined and he almost disappears under Derek’s bulk. He can tell the boy is inexperienced, trying too hard, being too forceful, but Derek’s sure he’d hurt him by pulling back, even if it’s only to tell him to dial it down. It’s not that he dislikes deep, consuming kisses or even biting, he _really_ doesn’t, but he has no intention of their first encounter being something almost near violent. He pulls back, placing soft kisses along Stiles’ jaw, down across his throat, before sucking on one of the boy’s collar bones. Stiles moans and grinds his hips up, unraveling the towel.

 

“You’re... _fuck_... you’re wearing too many clothes! Get them off, Derek!” the boy gasps.

 

Derek smirks and sits up, pulling his shirt over his head and throwing it over the edge of the bed. Stiles’ hands are on his abs in an instant, groping and tracing muscle ridges as he lies back down. The boy is whimpering, his hips making tiny undulations, seemingly by pure reflex. Derek catches Stiles’ hands in his own and holds them still, pressed to his chest.

 

“Easy, Stiles, calm down. It’s okay,” Derek reassures the boy, squeezing his fingers before letting go and lifting up a little so he can get a hand between them, grabbing Stiles’ cock. Stiles gasps, arching up into Derek’s touch, his mouth open in a silent _‘Oh!’_. Derek makes sure to be gentle about it, not wishing to embarrass Stiles by causing him to go off ten seconds in, jerking the boy in slow, steady pulls. He licks and mouths at Stiles’ chest while his hand works, flicking his tongue over a nipple. The boy hisses and moans, his breath whooshing out of him, his whole body writhing in the sheets. Stiles’ hands are digging into Derek’s shoulders and when he looks up into those amber eyes, giving a devilish twist of his wrist on an upstroke, Stiles’ body tightens up and he comes with a startled shout, his jizz spraying out, covering Derek’s hand and hitting both their stomachs.

 

“Sorry,” he squeaks, face reddening, “I couldn’t hold it back, I’m sorry-”

 

Derek stops him by pinching his lips together and then placing a soft kiss on his abused lips.

 

“Don’t be sorry, you did good, Stiles. So good...”

 

Extracting his hand from the mess between them, Derek takes a look at the pearly white covering his fingers. Stiles stares at his hand as well, looking hesitant, like he’s not sure what the protocol is for a situation like this.

 

“Um, I have tissues, if you want...” the boy starts, but cuts off in a disbelieving groan when Derek shoots him a wicked smirk and stuffs two fingers in his mouth, sucking Stiles’ come off, humming contentedly. “Or, you know, you could do _that_ ,” the boy croaks, his pupils dilating again, almost drowning out the rich amber color of his irises.

 

Stiles’ floundering makes Derek chuckle and he’s quickly reminded of his own, very urgent, erection when the vibrations of his laugh make it rub against the boy’s hip bone. Derek can’t keep the pained groan in and Stiles immediately pushes at Derek’s shoulders, trying to get him to roll off.

 

“Derek, can I...? I want to try, okay?”

 

He nods and lets the boy push him over on his back. Once he’s there, Stiles seems to hesitate with his hands on Derek’s belt buckle. It takes a few minutes of Derek just looking at him encouragingly before the kid’s trembling hands unbuckle the belt and unzip his jeans.

 

“What would you like?” Stiles asks while pulling Derek’s pants and underwear down in one go. His throbbing cock slaps up onto his abs when it’s free of his boxers, and Stiles’ eyes are glued to it.

 

Derek smiles and answers softly, “Whatever you want to do is fine.”

 

Stiles gives him an incredulous look, but Derek merely shoves his hands behind his head and wiggles into the sheets and pillows, quirking an eyebrow. He doesn’t want to force the boy into doing anything he doesn’t want.

 

“If you don’t feel like it, we can stop here, Stiles. It’s okay.”

 

Stiles frowns and shakes his head vehemently, settling in on his stomach between Derek’s legs.

 

“No! I’ve finally got you where I wanted you, I just... I haven’t done any of this before, alright?”

 

Oh, Derek is aware of that fact, he _really_ is. Being Stiles’ first is an intense rush, it’s singing in his veins and he can’t help feeling a little proud, perhaps even smug. He hopes it doesn’t make him a bad person. Or, well, worse than he already is for getting involved with his best friend’s son. Oh God, he’s really in deep waters here!

 

“Well, why don’t you just explore a bit then?” Derek suggests, reaching down to run his fingers through Stiles’ ruffled hair. It feels silky between his fingers and Derek thinks he could happily live his life with one hand eternally tangled in the soft strands.

 

Stiles clears his throat, “Alright, that’s... yeah, I can do that.”

 

The boy extends a hand and curls it around Derek’s cock, lifting it up and tightening his grip slightly, just feeling the weight of it in his hand. Derek is looking at Stiles’ face, mesmerized by the almost awed expression. Then, Stiles pumps his hand up and down a few times, really slowly, and Derek groans, biting his lip. It feels so good to finally have Stiles’ hands on him, he’s sure he’ll blow all too fast. At the sound, the boy’s mouth pulls up in a crooked smile and he leans forward, licking a wet trail up the underside of Derek’s erection. It’s inexperienced and sloppy, but damn if it isn’t the most intense thing Derek has felt in a long time. He’s aware his breathing is ragged and fast, a light sheen of sweat covering his body. The urge to thrust up into Stiles’ mouth is overwhelming, and Derek clenches his fists in the blanket, refusing to push him in any way.

 

Stiles is licking the tip of Derek’s cock, the tip of his tongue tentative, almost tickling as it catches on the rim of the head, his fingers playing with the foreskin while he tastes the drop of pre-come beading at the slit. Stiles smacks his lips slightly, contemplating the taste and, frankly, Derek is waiting for him to make a face and try to be discreet about not putting his mouth on Derek’s dick again. What happens instead, is the frown on Stiles’ forehead smooths out, and he bends forward with a hum and sucks the tip of Derek’s throbbing erection into his mouth, lapping at it like a lollipop.

 

Derek grits out a _‘Fuck!’_ and his cock twitches in Stiles’ mouth. He sort of grins around his mouthful, causing his teeth to rake along the sensitive skin. Derek hisses, his hips jerking involuntarily and Stiles hurries to get his teeth out of the way, gagging slightly as his mouth is invaded further.

 

“Sorry,” Derek pants, his eyes squeezed shut. The boy pulls off and licks across the slit, seemingly rejoicing in the moan he emits.

 

“I don’t mind, sorry about the fangs, though,” Stiles grins.

 

Derek can’t help but snort, rolling his eyes a little.

 

Stiles goes back to sucking and licking Derek’s dick, his hands petting Derek’s thighs, scratching gently, kneading the flesh like a content kitten. Electric jolts are shooting around in Derek’s body, his toes curling and the moans have reached embarrassing heights. He’s so close, even with the slightly amateurish blow job skills Stiles is employing, and he wants so badly to just let go and fuck his mouth, but it would be a bad idea, he’s sure. Instead, he grabs Stiles’ shoulder and manages to grit out, “I’m close.”

 

Stiles lifts off shortly and whispers in a hoarse voice, “Do you want me to... swallow?”

 

Derek shakes his head, “No, you don’t need to. I mean, if you want to try, be my guest, but-”

 

He doesn’t get any further before Stiles throws him a wicked grin and descends on his leaking cock once more, swirling his tongue and sucking like his life depends on it. Derek hums in pleasure, closing his eyes. He’s just enjoying the inevitable rise of pressure in his groin, waiting for it to crest and shatter into brilliant release, when he feels it. There’s a single finger sneaking south, brushing past his balls and along his perineum, in search of that little pucker. Derek’s eyes shoot open and he instantly sees Stiles’ eyes focused on his face, considering, waiting to see if Derek will deny him. He gives a tiny nod before dropping his head back onto the pillow with a groan. The sweat-slicked finger at his entrance circles lightly, pressing increasingly harder, while Stiles’ mouth keeps working on his cock. The added sensation of his hole being played with is driving Derek crazy, and he needs to come _now!_

 

“Stiles, fuck, _please!_ ” he whines, pushing his hips down, which causes the tip of the boy’s finger to pop inside. Stiles startles and looks almost frightened for a second, before he experimentally wiggles the digit and presses a bit further in. He seems to like the feeling, because he refocuses on licking the head of Derek’s erection, eagerly lapping up the pre-come, and shoves his finger in deep, coincidentally hitting the sweet spot.

 

Derek keens and punches the mattress, digging his heels into the bed. The sensation might be a little too sharp, since Stiles isn’t using any lube, but it’s just what Derek needs and he cries out as his cock pulses and empties in the boy’s mouth. It’s like his world is shattering around him and only slowly piecing itself back together.

 

When Derek opens his eyes again, Stiles is sitting between his legs, looking completely blown away, a trail of come rolling down his chin from the crook of his mouth where it must have escaped when he tried to swallow Derek’s load. He knows he shoots a lot, so it’s not uncommon to see a bit slipping out.

 

He reaches a hand out, beckoning for Stiles to crawl up the bed. The boy throws him a hesitant glance, but complies nonetheless, settling in next to Derek with a sigh. He can’t help but stare at Stiles’ perfect eyes, shining so bright, even when his whole body is tense with doubt and what is probably fear of impending rejection. Derek leans over, licking the come off Stiles’ chin and brushes his lips up to his mouth, kissing him confidently, opening up and licking until Stiles grants him entrance. They kiss deeply, Stiles whimpering slightly and Derek humming in pure joy. When they pull apart, Derek gives him a smile and rolls off the bed, walking over to his clothes. As much as he wants to stay right beside Stiles for the rest of eternity, he is well aware the Sheriff will be coming home soon, and this is not a situation he’d want to explain to Stiles’ father.

 

When Derek’s done buckling his belt and bends to retrieve his shirt, Stiles speaks behind him, voice soft and unsure.

 

“Um, this is where you tell me I’m too young and we can’t do this, right? That it was just a one time thing and it means nothing?”

 

Derek pulls his shirt on and levels a serious look in the boy’s direction.

 

“No, Stiles. You _are_ too young, but for some stupid reason, I don’t fucking care! I don’t want it to be a one time thing, and it certainly meant a lot to me! I don’t... Your father is one of my very best friends and this is _wrong_ , but...” Derek trails off in frustration, running a hand tiredly through his mussed up hair.

 

Stiles is on him half a second later, hugging Derek so tight he starts to fear for the safety of his ribs.

 

“God, please say you’ll see me again! Please, Derek, I want you so much!”

 

Derek tightens the embrace, bending to stuff his nose into Stiles’ hair, inhaling the scent of sweat mixed with a fruity shampoo. It’s absolute bliss.

 

“I actually came here to ask you if you wanted to help me rebuild my house in the woods. I mean, it’ll be hard work, but it’s also time spent together. Perhaps we could have dinner or something as well?”

 

He lets the suggestion hang there for a while. Stiles pulls back to look at him, spending a few moments trying to gauge Derek’s expression and then a smile blooms on his face, the big, beaming kind that always makes his knees weak.

 

“That’d be awesome, man! When?” Stiles asks, his whole body jittery with excitement.

 

Derek smiles back - how can he not, with the _power-of-the-sun_ grin Stiles has directed at him - and kisses the full bottom lip on display.

 

“Well, I was thinking about working on it during the weekends, when I’m off duty, and perhaps a few evenings during the week. You can give me your phone number and we can just arrange it as we go. Just tell me which days you can’t and we’ll work around it, alright?”

 

Derek guesses the enthusiastic kiss he receives is a _‘yes, that sounds good’_. He’s too busy enjoying it to ask questions, anyway.

 

 

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	2. Chapter 2

 

**Chapter 2**

 

 

On Friday, Derek goes shopping for supplies and some groceries. He needs to have food and drinks at the house for when he and Stiles are going to work there. It will waste too much time if they have to drive into town for food every time they get hungry.

 

After he’s been to the DIY store and the grocery store, he walks into the drugstore to buy some condoms and lube. It’s not that he’s expecting Stiles to jump right into his arms, but well, he’d just rather be over-prepared than end up having to say no because he doesn’t have the damn things.

 

He grabs a box of condoms and a random tube of lube and makes his way to the register. There’s a few people in front of him and he sees it’s little old Mrs. West behind the counter. She’s a sweet lady, who used to be a teacher at Beacon Hills High, but is now helping her son, who owns the drugstore.

 

When it’s Derek’s turn, he places the items on the counter, trying to appear as if it doesn’t bother him at all to practically broadcast his sexual activities to an eighty-something year old woman. When she was young, gays were probably viewed as an abomination. Derek grew up in Beacon Hills and it was town gossip for weeks straight when he proudly declared to a stubborn homophobe, in public no less, that he was gay. Derek can’t help the internal cringe when Mrs. West’s eyebrows raise. She directs her surprisingly steady, but slightly watery gaze on him, and waves the lube in his face.

 

“Are you intending to use this on a boyfriend or is it for a solo show, dear?” she asks, her squeaky voice much too loud.

 

Derek sputters and blushes fiercely, going cross eyed in an attempt to keep the flailing tube in sight. He can hear snickers from the people behind him in the line. She’s been speaking like she’s afraid he won’t be able to hear her, subsequently informing the entire drugstore about his purchases.

 

“Um, why is that relevant?” Derek manages to croak out.

 

Mrs. West gives him a withering glare and raises an admonishing finger.

 

“This kind is acceptable for a little alone time, but if you want to have actual anal intercourse, I’d recommend you use another brand, young man. This one isn’t always sufficient when going in the back door, if you catch my drift.”

 

There’s a smothered laugh from behind and Derek kind of wants to die. Oh God, why is this happening to him? In a matter of hours this story will be all over town. He tries leaning in a little closer to avoid their audience hearing the conversation.

 

“Well, it’s... not for solo time,” he answers, trying to determine whether giving her a smile would be considered creepy.

 

Apparently, Mrs. West believes he leaned in because he had trouble hearing, so she hollers loud enough to rattle the bottles on the shelves.

 

“I’m sorry, dear, I can’t say I know much about gay sex, but if you wanna make your little boyfriend happy, you should go with this brand of lubrication instead.”

 

She finishes the yelling by slamming another, more expensive, type of lube on the counter. Derek has actual stomach pains from the mortification at this point, and he’s never been this close to tears in public before. He merely nods at Mrs. West and pays before turning around and walking towards the exit, gaze directed at the floor, cheeks burning in shame.

 

“Officer Hale! Remember to use plenty,” the old lady yells at his retreating back and Derek practically runs out the door, the sounds of several people’s muffled laughter ringing in his ears.

 

 

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Saturday morning Derek packs some food and drinks and loads a cooler bag into the trunk of the Camaro, before heading out to the Hale property in the woods. He’d sent a text message to Stiles the previous evening, asking when he’d want to start. Stiles had been eager to get into action and they’d agreed to meet up at nine.

 

Derek makes sure to be there a little early and he starts knocking some more walls down. The manual labor feels good and even though his muscles are aching a bit with the effort, he finds the rhythm soothing. Five to nine he hears a loud rumbling and when he looks up, he sees the rusty, blue Jeep coming up the driveway. Stiles parks behind the Camaro and almost falls out of the vehicle, his foot somehow caught in the seat belt. Derek has to smother a laugh, but his face must have betrayed him, because the boy pouts and glares at him from next to his car.

 

Derek stops working and steps out of the debris. He’s sweating and his grey wifebeater clings to his skin, but he knows it’s only going to get worse because the sun is starting to break over the tree line. As Stiles gets closer, Derek’s skin starts to tingle and he can’t look away from the boy. Stiles is wearing an old t-shirt, which is a bit tight on him, and a pair of ripped jeans. It’s very sensible work wear, but it’s also an outfit that is sure to cause Derek to keep a raging erection all day. He can already hear his balls crying.

 

“Hi,” Stiles beams at him when he stops a few feet from Derek. The boy looks like he isn’t sure whether or not he’s allowed to come closer, squirming slightly, his smile turning crooked.

 

Derek’s hands are itching to reach out and touch, his entire body burning with the need to get close to Stiles.

 

“What?” Derek asks when Stiles continues staring with that wicked grin on his face.

 

“You’re, like, so hot it should be illegal for you to walk around in public, you _do_ know that right?” Stiles chuckles and gives Derek a very obvious once over. He knows he should probably laugh or joke back, but currently, Derek is occupied staring at Stiles’ full lips. God, he wants to bite those lips and he wants to drag the boy straight to the ground and take his time tasting every single inch of him.

 

The air between them is almost crackling with energy and the smile slides off Stiles’ lips to be replaced with an expression of longing. Derek knows his own is most likely very similar and he takes a deliberate step forward. As if this was the sign he was waiting for, Stiles hurries forward, all long, eager limbs and they crash halfway, hands grabbing and lips colliding.

 

The boy clings to Derek like a koala baby to its mother and he lifts Stiles up so he can walk them over to the Camaro. He deposits Stiles onto the hood of the car and uses his hands to cradle the boy’s face as they continue peppering kisses on each other, slightly frantic.

 

Stiles pulls back a little and gives a self-deprecating chuckle. “Wow, I was so scared it was all just something I’d dreamed and you’d just give me a ‘Sorry, kid, it’s not happening!’-look, and send me on my way.”

 

“No way!”, Derek growls and nibbles Stiles’ ear lobe. The boy groans and his fingers dig into Derek’s shoulders.

 

“You don’t happen to have a bed here by any chance, do you?” Stiles asks while grinding his hips into Derek’s. The friction is delicious and it makes him want to rip the pants off the boy and fuck him right here on the hood of the car. Which would be a phenomenally bad idea since Stiles is a virgin, at least in the technical sense. There is a solution for every problem though, and Derek is good at finding them, usually.

 

“Do you wanna fuck me?” he breathes into Stiles’ ear. The boy whines and drops his forehead to rest against Derek’s chest.

 

“Oh my _God_ , dude, are you trying to _kill_ me? You can’t just say shit like that!”

 

Derek smirks and leans in to plant a wet kiss on Stiles’ temple.

 

“Well? Do you?” he asks, nipping at the shell of the boy’s ear.

 

Stiles glances up at him, a hesitant look on his face.

 

“Um, actually, I’d prefer if I could bottom this time around? I don’t care that you don’t have a deluxe mattress out here, it doesn’t matter to me. In fact, I may or may not have had several fantasies involving you and this particular car, so...” he trails off, giving Derek that damn crooked smile again.

 

“You want me to fuck you for the first time on the hood of my car?” Derek inquires, eyebrow raised.

 

Stiles narrows his eyes and glares.

 

“Why not?”

 

Derek shrugs and smiles. This is so typical Stiles. The boy never does anything the way he’s expected to, and Derek can’t really say it bothers him. To be honest, it’s one of the things he finds incredibly endearing.

 

He kisses Stiles and steps around to get to the passenger door of the Camaro, reaching into the glove box for the condoms and lube he stashed there. Stiles uses the time to peel off his t-shirt and shimmy out of his jeans, so he’s standing in just his boxer briefs when Derek turns back. He nearly crushes the lube with the reflexive clench his body gives at the sight of the tenting underwear. Stiles’ cock twitches in its confines and there’s a small wet spot spreading where pre-come has leaked out. It’s too tempting, and Derek sinks to his knees between Stiles’ legs and leans in, swiping his tongue over the moist fabric, chasing the boy’s taste. Stiles whimpers and undulates his hips, his head tipping back, and the sight makes Derek’s own dick throb in his pants. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of the boy’s underwear and pulls them down and off, watching avidly as Stiles’ freed erection bobs in the air, a drop slowly forming at the slit.

 

“Hey, now would be a good time for you to lose your clothes!” Stiles states and grips two handfuls of Derek’s wife beater, proceeding to yank it over his head and drop it onto the hood. In short order they are both gloriously naked, Derek still kneeling. He looks up, keeping eye contact with Stiles while he squeezes some lube into his palm. He takes a second to be thankful his uncle had decided to build his house in the middle of the woods, with no neighbours for miles.

 

“Are you sure you want to do it this way?” he asks.

 

Stiles huffs and rolls his eyes.

 

“Yes, I’m sure, Derek. I’m fairly certain I won’t break.”

 

In response, Derek bends forward and drags his tongue slowly up the underside of the boy’s erection, then sucks the tip into his mouth. Stiles moans really loud and fists his hand in Derek’s hair. He doesn’t pull or push, or try to control Derek’s movements in any way. It’s like he’s just holding on for the ride.

 

Derek lets Stiles’ dick slip out of his mouth and nudges the boy’s legs apart, reaching back and smearing some lube over the tight hole. He circles a finger teasingly and watches Stiles’ reaction intently. He’s biting his lower lip, his face tensed up, but not really in a bad way. It seems like he’s waiting for something more and it’s then, Derek remembers to ask.

 

“Stiles, have you ever fingered yourself before?”

 

The boy gives him an incredulous look, complete with judging eyebrows and everything.

 

“Um, of course I have; I am a rather horny and very curious teenager. No more than two though, because... uh... it wasn’t necessary, I guess?” Stiles says, a blush spreading onto his cheeks. Derek just nods and increases the pressure he’s exerting with his index finger, pushing it past the rim and pausing when the boy hisses and scrunches his eyes shut. He doesn’t ask Derek to stop though, and is even spreading his legs a little more.

 

Derek goes back to licking and sucking Stiles’ cock while working the boy open with gentle thrusts of his finger, until he’s loose enough for a second. Derek’s own erection is dribbling pre-come into his happy trail, and it gives an enthusiastic jerk when Stiles cries out, as Derek’s fingers jab his prostate. His blood is pounding in his veins, making it feel like his whole body is aflame. Derek can’t recall the last time he reacted this strongly to another person and he kind of wants to stay pressed against Stiles for the rest of his life.

 

Getting a third finger into the boy’s hole is not as difficult as Derek had anticipated from the initial reaction; it pops in quite easily and Stiles groans and pushes down, making Derek hit his sweet spot full on. The boy’s head slams back onto the hood of the car with a thunk. It almost makes Derek wince in sympathy, but Stiles doesn’t seem to care at all, panting and cursing a constant stream of _‘Fuck!’_ and _‘Oh my God!’_ , his body writhing like he’s about to break out of his skin with all the sensations he’s experiencing.

 

Before Derek can even get himself together enough to ask whether now would be a good time to take it to the next level, Stiles grabs onto his arm with a tight grip, licking the sweat off his upper lip.

 

“Derek, if you don’t get your cock in me, like, five minutes ago, I’m gonna accidentally end this show before it even starts, okay?”

 

Huffing a laugh, Derek eases his fingers out and quickly rolls the condom on, using a little more lube than necessary, in the hope it will make it less painful for Stiles. When he lines his cock up and presses forward, the boy clenches his jaw and hooks his ankles behind Derek’s back. He’s groaning with the effort of holding back and Stiles is moaning and clawing at Derek’s shoulders, head thrown back and mouth open wide, breathing heavily.

 

“You okay?” Derek grits out. He feels sweat rolling down his neck, tickling a bit.

 

Stiles manages a crooked smile and shoves Derek forward by pushing with his legs, making Derek’s cock sink in another inch.

 

“I’m fine... _Fuck!_ More than fine! It... it hurts, but in a good way, you know?” the boy pants.

 

Oh yes, Derek _does_ know! He braces his hands on the hood of his car and pulls out a fraction before pressing in again, slowly. It’s a delicious drag, soft friction, and it’s so fucking _good,_ he can’t help the deep groan he emits. It sounds like it’s coming all the way from his toes and for all he knows, that’s exactly the case. He lowers his head so he can kiss Stiles while he thrusts his way in, until he’s fully sheathed in the boy’s warmth. They both moan into the kiss and Stiles’ hands find their way into Derek’s hair, fingers running through the strands.

 

“Come on, you can move,” Stiles breathes into his ear.

 

Taking great care, Derek pulls back and snaps his hips forward, relishing in the moan it elicits. The boy keeps egging him on and soon Derek is cursing and hissing, pounding into Stiles’ ass, hands clamped around the boy’s thighs, hauling downward for every shove of his hips, trying to hit the sweet spot every time.

 

Stiles makes quite a picture, splayed out, mouth open in a silent scream, eyes closed and eyebrows drawn together. The boy’s hands are scrambling for purchase on the sleek hood of the Camaro, and if Derek wasn’t so entirely occupied, he would perhaps worry a bit about the paint job.

 

The slap of skin against skin is heard even above the constant chant of _‘Oh, oh, oh!’_ from Stiles and Derek’s moaning and gasping. It doesn’t take long for Derek’s thrusting to get desperate and he keens in the back of his throat, bowing down to mouth at Stiles’ jaw and neck, while continuing to buck his hips wildly.

 

“Derek, _please_ , I need-” the boy starts, cutting off on a high pitched cry, hands flying up to burrow into Derek’s hair once more.

 

Even while keeping up his enthusiastic pounding, Derek manages to get one hand off the car and shove it between them to grasp Stiles’ cock. It’s still wet from leftover saliva and the pre-come which is leaking steadily from the tip. All it takes is a handful of quick, firm tugs, and the boy shouts and sprays come in thick ropes across their stomachs. There’s not as much as Derek usually ejects, but Stiles shoots slightly harder, a few drops almost reaching his chin.

 

As he’s chasing his own orgasm, Derek bends to lick up the come he can reach. Stiles groans at the sight and flops back, covering his eyes with an arm.

 

“Totally not fair, I can’t go again already!”

 

Through the haze, Derek huffs a breathless laugh before swooping down to kiss Stiles again, licking into the boy’s mouth and grinding his hips deep. The ecstasy is rising within him, making his entire body tingle and the blood practically sing in his veins. It reaches a crescendo when Stiles bites at Derek’s jaw and whispers a _‘Yes, fuck me!’_ in his ear.

 

With a roar, Derek punches his hips forward and comes so hard he almost blacks out for second. Remembering to land on his elbows in order not to crush Stiles, he slumps over, panting into the boy’s neck.

 

“You alright?” Derek inquires, when he gets his breath back.

 

Stiles’ face is radiating pure bliss and he directs a dopey smile at Derek.

 

“I’m awesome!” he exclaims happily. Derek grins and kisses his bruised lips gently.

 

They’re both sweaty and the light breeze is quickly cooling their skin, so Derek forces his wobbly legs to support his weight and pulls out, removing the condom and throwing it in the garbage bag he has in the car. Stiles is still laid out on the engine hood and he looks like he’s considering never moving a muscle, ever again. Derek gathers their clothes, pulling his own underwear and jeans back on.

 

When they’re both dressed once more, Derek finds two sodas and they drink while chatting idly about his plans for the house, before getting up to work. Derek explains what he wants done while showing Stiles around the ruins, talking about what each area is supposed to be. After they’ve been all the way around, Derek informs the boy which tasks are his, and equips him with a sledgehammer to start on the walls that used to be the kitchen. They work until lunch, at which time they stop to eat the sandwiches Derek brought. Stiles winces slightly when he sits down, but he maintains the smug smile all day, so Derek isn’t too worried.

 

They stop for the day around dinner time and the boy gives him a bone crunching hug and stretches up for a kiss, which Derek grants, before running for the Jeep.

 

“Same time tomorrow?” Stiles asks with a cheeky grin. Derek can’t help but smile back, nodding, and watches as the old, blue rust pile rumbles down the driveway. He is already yearning for tomorrow and he groans in frustration at his too-quickly developing feelings. He never was good with keeping anything casual. Not that he wants to in this case, but come on. Stiles is an eighteen year old; is he even capable of serious and long-term, at this point in his life?

 

Derek ends up spending an extra hour hammering down bricks and woodwork before returning to his apartment and falling into bed, completely exhausted.

 

 

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Sunday morning Stiles shows up in another set of accidentally provocative clothes and bounds right into Derek’s arms, planting a sloppy kiss on his lips.

 

“Alright, so, we’re just knocking down more walls today then?” he asks, picking up the hammer he’d used the previous day.

 

“Yeah, that’s the plan,” Derek replies, giving the boy a quick smile.

 

They work diligently, only stopping to get something to drink and eat. At the end of the day, Stiles backs Derek up to his car. When he’s forced to sit down on the hood, the boy sinks to his knees and throws a hungry look at the front of Derek’s jeans. He barely has time to wrap his mind around what’s being offered here, before Stiles has his pants unzipped and his cock out. He may only have done this once before, but he is evidently a fast learner. It doesn’t take long for him to have Derek cursing and gasping, his fingers tight in the boy’s hair. He nearly knees Stiles in the face when he comes so hard, his entire body spasms with it. He comes back to himself slumped on the engine hood. The boy is just petting Derek’s abs reverently, while licking his lips. Derek has to lean down and steal a kiss, pushing his tongue into Stiles’ mouth, tasting the traces of his own come.

 

He hauls the boy up and reverse them, so Stiles is the one sitting on the car. He’s about to return the favor, when Stiles grabs him and pulls him up so he’s lying on top, settled between the boy’s thighs.

 

“Um, I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m sorta spent, so you won’t be getting _that_ lucky right now,” Derek quips. Stiles laughs and cuffs him over the head.

 

“I did notice, thanks so much! It doesn’t matter anyway, I promised my dad I’d be home for an early dinner before his shift starts, so I have to go. But I’ll _definitely_ think of you later!” he says, cackling madly when Derek whines and drops his head into his hands.

 

 

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	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 3 for ya. Enjoy...

 

**Chapter 3**

 

 

Within a few weeks, a patterns develops. They work on the house most weekends and often on Wednesday evening as well, since Stiles doesn’t have any after school activities those days. The Sheriff is on duty, so there’s no one to eat dinner with at home. More often than not, Derek and Stiles end up going somewhere to get take out, or they make late dinner at the Stilinski house after finishing up for the day.

 

Another thing, which becomes a regular occurrence, is the sex. Anytime Derek gets close to the boy, it’s like a spark ignites and bursts into a brilliant flame. If he was willing to utter any of those ridiculous metaphors, Derek would probably say it’s like gravity is pulling them towards each other. Two pieces of a puzzle, finally united.

 

He’s definitely too dignified to utter any such thing, though.

 

Derek is starting to get kind of worried about how swiftly his feelings for Stiles are evolving. He is starting to fall in love with the boy, and Derek might be aware he’s good looking enough to capture the attention of a young guy like Stiles, but he also knows it’s not likely they want the same things from this... whatever it is they are doing. A boy like Stiles should be out partying and getting some experience with whoever he wants to, drinking and being stupid. Not tied down to a thirty-something man, who’s at the age where it’s normal to settle down, buy a house and all that jazz.

 

There’s also the dilemma of Stiles’ father, who is still blissfully ignorant of his son’s activities. Derek gets a stab of guilt every time John smiles at him or outwardly shows his trust.

 

It’s not that he is happy about ignoring those things, but somehow it just fades when he’s with Stiles. The significance of the risks and potential trouble simply lessens, when compared to what the boy means to him.

 

 

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After a month of working on his uncle’s house, most of the building is demolished and they are sorting through the debris to see if there are things that can be reused. Some of the bricks are in good condition, and they dump the useless parts to be removed before the actual rebuilding can start.

 

The wheelbarrow is filled with useable building blocks and Derek is about to go unload them in the steadily growing pile, when a pair of arms sneaks around his waist, the warm line of Stiles’ body plastering itself into his back.

 

“You feel like taking a break?” the boy whispers. He’s using the tone, which means he’s gotten aroused by staring at Derek’s ass for too long.

 

He can’t help the soft chuckle escaping.

 

“Sure, I can be persuaded. Do you want a sandwich? Something to drink, perhaps?” Derek teases, turning around and giving Stiles a politely questioning smile. If the boy would chance a look down, he’d see clear evidence that Derek’s dick is well aware of what he’s asking for, and it’s onboard, no doubt about it!

 

Stiles pretends to think about it, before saying, “Nah, I was thinking something a little more manly and sweaty, perhaps?”

 

Derek shoves his face into the crook of the boy’s neck, licking and biting the delicate skin, sucking blood to the surface, forming some impressive hickeys. Stiles swats a hand at Derek’s face with an irritated huff.

 

“Stop that! As much as I like it, my dad’s gonna notice if I come home from working here, with hickeys everywhere!”

 

That thought is enough to make the flames in Derek’s veins fizzle out pathetically fast, and he steps back with a grimace. Stiles’ face falls immediately and he looks like he’s thinking about hitting himself with a shovel, his hands shooting out to grab Derek’s arms to prevent him from pulling away completely.

 

“Ugh, no! Put the guilt-face away, Derek! Please, just forget I said that, it was a stupid thing to say!”

 

Derek closes his eyes and breathes slowly in and out for a while, trying to get a hold of his feelings. He still wants Stiles, very much so, but the reminder of his friend, and how this is definitely something he’d be terribly upset by, has brought up all the shame he thought he’d battled down.

 

He opens his eyes when Stiles emits a distressed sound and to his horror, he sees the boy has suspiciously bright eyes, his face still emanating worry and regret. He looks like he’s expecting, and at the same time truly dreading, impending rejection.

 

“I know people might think this is wrong, that we’re not supposed to... to want this, but I do! I want you so much, Derek! Please, don’t send me away now, I can’t-!”

 

Stiles breaks off when Derek steps forward and embraces him again, pulling the boy close to his chest and bending his head, shoving his nose into the spiky hair, breathing deeply. It takes a couple of minutes for Stiles to relax again and Derek just nuzzles into the him, his hands running in a soothing rhythm up and down the boy’s back.

 

“I know, Stiles, I know,” Derek murmurs.

 

They stay close for a while, neither wanting to move or break the silence. Stiles’ hands are still fisted in Derek’s shirt and it doesn’t feel like he’s about to let go anytime soon.

 

“Um,” the boy starts, sounding slightly hesitant, “this is going to sound _so_ needy and whiny, but what are we? I don’t want to pressure you into saying something you don’t mean, but this uncertainty is killing me. So, can we talk about this?”

 

Derek is gaping, like, his jaw is literally just hanging! Stiles wants to have _the talk?_ Well, alright then, perhaps the boy is more mature than his age would suggest. Which actually makes sense, seeing as Stiles has grown up as the son of the town’s sheriff. He’s probably had more than his share of lectures on responsible behavior, and Derek has no problems imagining how the other students must have behaved around Stiles at school. Nobody wants to invite the sheriff’s kid to the party where they hope to indulge in underage drinking or possibly even drugs. Besides, Stiles and John has had a much more adult relationship since the passing of Mrs. Stilinski. They are all each other has, and in many ways, Stiles has been taking care of his dad as much as John has been taking care of his son.

 

A hollow laugh shakes Derek out of his musings. Stiles’ hands are slipping down his front and the boy looks absolutely wrecked. It takes Derek a few moments to realize his silence has probably been interpreted as reluctance to discuss the matter, or worse, a dismissal.

 

“Right, I get it,” Stiles says, his voice carefully neutral, “You just enjoy a nice ass to fuck. No big deal.”

 

The hurt breaks through at the end, despite how much the boy works to conceal it, and nearly breaks Derek’s heart. He reaches out and snags a handful of Stiles’ sinfully tight t-shirt.

 

“No, Stiles! Give me two seconds to come up with an appropriate answer, okay? God, you can’t just spring a question like that on me and then go all ‘No big deal’ before I can even comprehend what you just asked me.”

 

He makes sure to give Stiles a small smile and pulls on his fistful, bringing the boy back in.

 

“So,” Derek starts, dragging the word out. “I was actually avoiding this topic because I was fairly sure a young guy like you wouldn’t want to be held back by an old man like me. I do care about you Stiles, quite a lot frankly, and it scares me shitless! You’ve got to know how people would react to this, to us,” Derek says, gesturing between them, “this is not acceptable to most people. I don’t think I need to tell you how your dad would respond to seeing us together. He’d shoot me dead before asking any questions and we both know it.”

 

Stiles is biting his lips and looking torn between confusion and tentative joy. Eventually, he takes a deep breath and starts talking.

 

“First of all, you are _not_ an old man! Second, I don’t give a shit about what people think! They are just a bunch of narrow-minded assholes if they can’t see past the age issue. I know we’d have to hide, I don’t wanna be the reason you get fired or some shit, but I’m not really the type to go for something casual. I had a crush on Lydia Martin for seven years for fucks sake, and she never even acknowledged my existence!”

 

The boy cringes and shoots Derek a quick glance. “Don’t worry though, I’m not still in love with her or anything, that pretty much ended when I realized I like dicks more than boobs! Not that I don’t appreciate her brilliance and superior intelligence, because I do, but... um, yeah, what I’m trying to say is, if you’re up for it, I’d like to give us a try? Be boyfriends, or whatever label you’re willing to put on it.”

 

Derek huffs and crooks an eyebrow at Stiles’ blabbering.

 

“You should be studied!”

 

The boy glares at him, eyes narrowed to slits. Derek laughs because, seriously? Stiles only manages to look like an exceptionally pissed off kitten when he does that. Not exactly intimidating.

 

“Seriously,” Derek snorts, “I’m sure it’s not normal, even for an ADHD brain like yours, to produce such a staggering numbere of words per minute!”

 

“Deflective much?” Stiles snaps.

 

“Sorry,” Derek replies, planting a soft kiss on Stiles’ mouth. “Yes, we can be boyfriends. That could work for me.”

 

The beaming smile he gets in return almost blinds him, and there’s a warm feeling in the bottom of his stomach. It’s vaguely familiar, reminding him of home and family, and honestly, Derek’s a little afraid to inspect it too closely.

 

They continue sitting for a bit, kissing and clinging to each other, but neither of them are really in the right mood to take it any further. In the end, they go back to working. When evening approaches, the Sheriff calls and asks them to join him for dinner, since he got out of the station early.

 

It’s the most uncomfortable evening either of them has had in awhile. Getting an erection from close proximity and having to stay seated that way for an extended period of time will do that to you. Thankfully, John remains ignorant of their problems, chattering happily about an upcoming baseball game he wants to watch. After several hours of what amounts to something close to cock and balls torture, Derek escapes and makes his way home, where he takes his second shower of the day.

 

A nice, long one. He may or may not come, moaning Stiles’ name, with three fingers in his ass.

 

 

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The first time Stiles comes to Derek’s apartment is a couple of weeks after _the talk_. He’s just gotten home, when there’s an aggressive pounding on the door. He opens it to see the boy standing there, face ashen and eyes flashing angrily. Before Derek can even ask what’s the matter, Stiles advances and pokes him hard in the chest with an accusing finger.

 

“What’s your problem?” the boy spits out, his whole body trembling. “Is this some kind of sick game to you? Fool the stupid, gullible kid into thinking you like him, so you have an ass to pound on a regular basis while you look for something better? Well, fuck you!”

 

Stiles ends his rant on a shout and uses both hands to give Derek a shove. He’s caught off guard, so he stumbles back a few steps. His brain is frozen, he literally has no idea what’s going on, but Stiles is looking furious and _betrayed_ , his eyes red rimmed and mouth pinched in a tight, unhappy line. It makes Derek’s chest hurt and his stomach drop.

 

“Stiles, what are you talking about?” he asks, trying to keep his tone somewhat calm.

 

“Like you don’t know!” Stiles scoffs, ripping his hands from where Derek was attempting to take hold of them, and turns his back. Derek watches in disbelief as the boy marches out the door and he’s almost too late in launching out, but he manages to catch hold of Stiles’ sleeve and pull him backwards into the apartment and slam the door. Stiles struggles in his grip, twisting and kicking viciously.

 

“Let go of me!” he hisses, tone more venomous than Derek had ever thought the boy could be capable of. Purely by reflex, he recoils, not managing to keep the hopelessness and hurt off his own face. Stiles stops trying to hit him instantly, giving Derek a suspicious glare.

 

“Stiles,” Derek begs, fighting to keep the frustration out of his voice, “just, please tell me what I did to cause this, because I have absolutely no idea! I mean, I thought we were fine, but if you really believe I’d do the things you just accused me of... well, why the hell are you even here?”

 

The boy’s entire body is tensed and his posture defensive, hands clenched into fists at his sides. Silence reigns, and Derek doesn’t know what to do. To make matters worse, Stiles abruptly doubles over, bursting into tears and Derek throws a wide eyed, panicked glance around his apartment. This shit just officially went to new levels of ridiculousness, and he’s certain he’s been transported to some alternate universe. Emotional outbursts are not something he’s comfortable dealing with, and he’s still not sure what it is he’s supposedly done. He can’t just let Stiles continue to sit alone in a slumped heap on his living room floor, though, so he walks over and bends over to lift the boy up. He half drags, half carries Stiles over to the couch and drops them both down into the soft, leather cushions.

 

Between heaving sobs, Stiles manages to tell Derek what happened.

 

“Dad g-got home and he s-said it was good to see you f-finally finding someone to be with. For a second, I th-thought he’d found out about us or something, but then h-he told me, he’d seen you... he’d seen you with some bloke at the diner, being all lovey-dovey. I didn’t want to believe it, but I drove there to see for myself and... and...” Stiles breaks off on another body wracking sob and curls in on himself.

 

Suddenly, Derek understands what’s happened and the relief is so tangible he wants to both laugh and cry, all at once. God, this is so stupid! Try as he might, he doesn’t manage to stop a small snort of laughter from escaping, which turns out to be a big mistake. Stiles flinches back, and suddenly he’s all rage and indignant screaming again.

 

“Oh, is that funny to you?” the boy shouted, grabbing a pillow and flinging it at Derek, who catches it easily.

 

“No, Stiles, please stop and listen to me, okay? I was at the diner with Isaac, he’s a friend of mine who I haven’t seen in awhile. He came into town unexpectedly and he called and asked if I could meet him, since he had to leave again tonight. He used to date my sister, he’s like a brother to me!”

 

Derek pauses to let the information sink in and he lets a small smile show on his own face when Stiles starts looking embarrassed, the angry red splotches on his face morphing into a deep blush. He’s just about to reach out and pull the stupid boy in, when Stiles blanches before quickly proceeding to looking absolutely miserable. Derek freezes with his hands in mid-air.

 

“What?” he asks warily.

 

Stiles drops his head into his hands. “Shit! I’m sorry, I just totally freaked out for no reason and threw a fit worthy of a teenaged girl! I wouldn’t even blame you if you found somebody else, because who fucking wants a jealous child for a boyfriend?”

 

“You are not a child!” Derek snaps vehemently. Stiles seems to realize that playing up the age issue was not a wise decision and he winces slightly. Before the boy can start rambling though, Derek continues, “And I don’t want somebody else, Stiles, I want you! But if you can’t trust me, how is this ever going to work?”

 

“I’m sorry!” the boy exclaims instantly, “I just didn’t know how to handle it. When I saw you two, you looked so comfortable with each other and you were out in the open, in plain view, and no one even looked twice at you. I realized I couldn’t even confront you right away, because I had no right to do that. First, I was angry and _so_ jealous, I just wanted to march straight over and punch him in the face, but then I thought maybe you would rather be with him, you know? Someone you can actually take out in public, someone you wouldn’t be ashamed of. God, I feel so stupid for putting so much hope on this! You probably think I’m some sort of pathetic, clingy loser now,” Stiles finishes with a mirthless laugh, running a hand through his hair, looking completely dejected. 

 

Anger rises rapidly in Derek and he grabs a fistful of Stiles’ shirt and yanks him closer.

 

“Stop fucking putting words in my mouth!” he grits out. Before Stiles can do more than gape, he pulls him in the last few inches and mashes their mouths together in a bruising kiss. The boy utters a surprised, muffled sound, his arms flailing around shortly and then settling on Derek’s shoulders, clinging on for the ride.

 

Derek is shoving Stiles back into the couch, hands running in desperate, fast patterns around the his body. He yanks the boy’s shirt up so he can finally get his hands on the pale, flushed skin. The contact is like balm on his frazzled nerves and Derek moans into the kiss.

 

“I. Want. You. And. Only. You,” he says, punctuating each word with kisses to Stiles’ lips, jaw and neck. He bites in the crook of the boy’s neck, soothing the hurt with his tongue afterwards. “I’m not ashamed of you! If it wouldn’t mean risking my job, and, in case your father saw us, my life as well, I’d fucking parade you around town, you moron!”

 

Stiles looks like he wants to respond to that, so Derek distracts him by shoving a hand between their bodies to rub at the boy’s crotch, where his dick is straining against the fabric. Instead of words, Stiles emits some drawn out moans and drops his head against the back support.

 

“If I was allowed, I’d mark you up everywhere, to show people you are mine,” Derek growls as he mouths at Stiles’ collarbone. Fingers weave into his hair and grab hold, pulling his head back until he is looking at Stiles’ face. The boy is frowning, but somewhere behind that, he looks quite smug.

 

“Yours? I’m not a thing you can own, Derek!”

 

In a series of quick moves, Stiles throws them over, so it’s suddenly Derek who’s on the bottom. The boy yanks Derek’s shirt off, leaning down and licking over a nipple before he, without any warning whatsoever, bites down harshly. Derek cries out and jerks away, which just makes Stiles grin wickedly and licks his lips exaggeratedly. He hadn’t thought he could get any harder, but apparently his traitorous cock loves biting and Derek can actually feel his pulse in his throbbing erection. He narrows his eyes in response and grabs onto the boy’s arms, flipping them over, causing them to fall off the couch, landing with a thump on the floor. Stiles gives an indignant squawk and knees Derek in the stomach. He retaliates by ripping the boy’s shirt off and flinging it across the room.

 

Soon, they’re a mess of tangled limbs, hands clawing at skin, writhing bodies and heavy panting breaths. They moan into each other’s mouths, moving together aggressively, like it’s their sole purpose in life. It’s all violent gropings and biting and sucking. Desperate passion exploding into a frenzy.

 

Eventually, the friction isn’t enough, so Derek lifts up to turn Stiles over onto his stomach and quickly tugs down his jeans and boxers, letting go as soon as the boy’s ass is free. There’s a hiss from Stiles, probably because his dick got caught when his pants were pulled down, but he presses his butt up into Derek’s groin nonetheless. Derek swiftly unzips his own trousers and shoves them down so he can pull his cock out. The need to bury himself deep in the boy’s ass is overwhelming and he bends down to lick and bite at Stiles’ shoulder blades, while rutting against him. Stiles moans and whines, attempting to get a hand under himself. Derek decides to help him out and hauls the boy up so he’s on his knees. Then, he pulls Stiles’ jeans and underwear completely off, reveling in the sight of the swollen cock bobbing between his legs. It’s flushed and _so_ hard, the tip glistening with pre-come. Derek groans at the sight and grips the base of his own erection to calm himself a little.

 

“You want me to fuck you?” Derek asks, breathlessly.

 

Stiles whimpers and pillows his head on his arms. “ _Fuck yes!_ Come on, Derek!”

 

“Stay there!” he orders, giving the boy’s left cheek a sharp slap. Stiles cries out, spewing a couple of choice curse words after Derek as he marches to the bedroom to fetch his lube and a condom.

 

When he gets back, the boy is in the exact same position, watching him with dark, hungry eyes. The sight makes Derek’ cock throb and a thrill of power shoots through him. There’s no way he’s pretending to be nonchalant about this, though, so he hurries over to kneel behind Stiles.

 

“You look fucking gorgeous like this,” Derek whispers as he caresses the boy’s firm buttocks. Stiles moans and spreads his legs out, offering Derek a prime view of his tight hole. It makes Derek’s dick jump and his gut clench in anticipation. He hurries to put on the condom and pops the cap on the lube, coating his erection.

 

“Do you want fingers first?” he inquires, rubbing the head of his cock around the boy’s entrance.

 

Stiles merely whines, rolling his hips while shoving back. The movement pushes the tip of Derek’s dick through the tight muscle and he gasps, hips jerking by pure instinct. Stiles groans as he sinks down on another inch, a trembling hand reaching back to grab at Derek’s ass.

 

“Come on, Derek!” the boy mewls, pulling to get Derek closer, deeper. “Wanna feel it!”

 

Biting back a moan, Derek complies, thrusting in until he’s balls deep, his hips flush against the swell of Stiles’ ass cheeks. He bends over the boy’s back, draping himself there, sucking lazily at the sweat slicked skin while grinding his hips in soft rolls. Stiles whimpers, turning his head to look back at Derek with darkened, hooded eyes. The sight is enough to make Derek’s cock twitch inside the boy.

 

He continues with the lazy movements for a few minutes, until Stiles’ muscles start trembling and he lets out what can only be described as a sob. His hand loosens its grip and falls from Derek’s butt to the floor. The smack as it hits the wood is loud in the room, as is the soft whisper which follows.

 

“ _Please_ , Derek.”

 

It’s like a solid kick in his stomach and Derek grunts as he snaps his hips forward, fucking hard into the boy. From then on, he uses rough thrusts, ramming into Stiles’ ass as if it’s the only thing keeping him sane - and at this point, it might very well be.

 

Derek’s hands are clasped as tight as a vice around the boy’s waist, and the moans and yells echo off the walls along with the slapping of skin on skin. Stiles is spewing a litany of garbled words, half curses and half praises, all dedicated to Derek and his skills. The only thing Derek is aware of at this point though, is the reverent tone with which they are uttered and the feel of Stiles’ body clamped tight around his cock. He’s driving into the boy with total abandon and they are both sweaty and panting, Derek gnawing and sucking on every piece of skin his mouth comes into contact with and Stiles clenching his fists, his hard dick bouncing under them with every thrust.

 

When he feels his own release nearing in a daunting wave of pressure, Derek pries one hand off Stiles’ hip to grasp the boy’s erection instead, fisting it hard and fast. Stiles cries out, body twitching, and comes in long, thick spurts along the floorboards. Derek keeps stroking his softening cock until his own orgasm tears through him, making him groan and shove his dick in as deep as it can go, holding himself there as the tremors wrack his body.

 

Once Derek’s muscles relax, he’s too slow to get off Stiles’ back and they both collapse to the floor in a big heap. It can’t be comfortable for the boy, so Derek moves, wanting to get up, but Stiles makes a noise of protest and hauls him back before he can even pull out.

 

“No, stay,” he mumbles, voice slow and lazy.

 

Derek snorts and kisses the spot between Stiles’ shoulder blades.

 

“That can’t be comfortable, let’s go to the bed, Stiles.”

 

In response, the boy drags Derek’s arms up and under his head, using them as pillows.

 

“No, just... stay in me for a while... please.”

 

Not knowing what to answer, Derek sighs and ignores the warmth unfurling in his gut at the idea of staying connected to Stiles for a little longer. The boy probably didn’t mean it like that and if he did, well, it’s one of the things Derek has always liked himself.

 

 

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	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry peeps, I meant to update yesterday, but then RL attacked me. Anyways, without further ado - have chapter 4...

 

**Chapter 4**

 

 

They are almost done putting up the new walls, when the Sheriff invites Derek over for dinner one night. Apparently, there’s a game on the TV they just can’t miss and even though Stiles and Derek spend a few minutes panicking quietly, they agree he should go. It will be less conspicuous if Derek accepts and acts as though they’re not hiding anything of importance. Like, for example, Derek fucking his best friend’s son on a regular basis.

 

No matter how much Stiles pouts in protest, John still orders pizzas. When they’re done with those, the Sheriff fetches ice cream from the freezer.

 

“Dad!” Stiles chides, giving his father the stink eye. John raises an eyebrow which seems to communicate the lack of fucks he gives and marches into the kitchen to get bowls and spoons. Derek is sitting next to Stiles on the couch and they are being careful not to touch, while also trying not to seem like they’re actively avoiding it, which is a difficult task, thank you very much. They are interrupted in their efforts, when John pokes his head in from the kitchen, frowning and holding - _dear God!_ \- the tube of chocolate sauce Stiles almost emptied on Derek’s cock a few nights ago.

 

He can still feel the cold shock of the sticky sauce being dumped on his poor dick. It was enough that Stiles got a fair deal of licking in before Derek’s cock agreed to play along. After that, though, it was worth all the mess and the fact he washed chocolate goo out of his pubes for days afterwards.

 

Snapping back to the present, he hears the Sheriff’s disgruntled tone.

 

“Didn’t I just buy this one last week? How much ice cream have you had, Stiles? It’s almost empty now!”

 

Of course, the boy is blushing beet red and Derek kind of wants to facepalm, because, way to look guilty, but he manages to compose his face and give the TV his attention instead. He doesn’t want to risk eye contact with Stiles at this particular time. Neither of them are good at hiding emotions.

 

“Um... sorry? I had Scott over and we might have been a bit excessive with the sauce?” Stiles winces, throwing his father a sheepish smile. John sighs in exasperation and withdraws to fetch the rest of the supplies from the counter.

 

When the Sheriff squirts a very unhealthy amount of chocolate sauce on his ice cream he makes sure to send his son a look which clearly says _‘Don’t you dare challenge my right to do this, when you’ve eaten almost the entire tube by yourself!’_. Not that he has any need to be worried, because Stiles is busy trying to look stern, as is his default in these situations, instead of mortified at seeing his father with the same tube he and Derek rolled around on top of after Stiles had eaten half the sweet stickiness off his boyfriend’s erection and abs... and nipples. Yeah, Derek had thoroughly enjoyed _that_ one!

 

A few seconds after he finishes the thought, John starts shoveling in the vanilla ice cream, dripping with chocolate sauce, moaning at the taste of it. Derek hears a hitched breath from Stiles and turns his head to get a look at the boy. He’s sitting ramrod straight, eyes wide and face a dark red. His gaze keeps flicking between the tube of chocolate and Derek’s groin. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where his mind has wandered to, and Derek can’t hold back the smirk at that. Stiles sees and throws a truly impressive glare at Derek before awkwardly standing up and excusing himself. The Sheriff doesn’t bother looking away from his dessert, but Derek tries to keep a surreptitious eye on the boy’s retreating form. Just as Stiles rounds the corner into the hallway, his profile is turned towards Derek and the tent in the his jeans is obvious. It’s a real challenge to tear his eyes away and act unaffected, but Derek succeeds. He forces himself to concentrate on the game and not think about what the boy is doing in the bathroom, or perhaps upstairs in his room.

 

Is he mad at Derek for grinning at him? Maybe he should have made more of an effort to ignore the boy’s dilemma.

 

His phone buzzes and Derek opens the text message, still looking at the screen, following the players. He almost chokes when he looks down and sees the message from Stiles.

 

_Shame you can’t join me in here, I could really use some help._

 

Attached is a picture of Stiles’ dick, jutting out from his body, cock head almost purple with blood. Maybe his imagination is playing tricks on him, but Derek thinks he can see a drop of precome at the tip.

 

Shit!

 

_Definitely_ shouldn’t have smirked at the boy. Derek sighs and resigns himself to spending a good part of the evening hiding his boner from his boyfriend’s father. His own best friend. Just lovely!

 

 

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“Do you wanna go hiking this weekend?” is what Stiles blurts when he arrives at the Hale house one Thursday evening.

 

Derek raises an eyebrow in surprise, but it seems Stiles is serious, so he puts down the hammer he was holding and steps up to the boy.

 

“You don’t see enough of the woods when you’re out here?” he jokes, giving Stiles a quick kiss.

 

The boy huffs and rolls his eyes so hard, Derek’s surprised they don’t pop out of his skull.

 

“A ‘no’ would suffice.”

 

“I never said I didn’t wanna go, Stiles,” Derek states, picking his tools back up. “Where did you have in mind?”

 

Stiles beams at him, practically bouncing up and down in excitement, “There’s a place I want to show you, if that’s okay? It’s only a couple of hours from here, and I thought we could bring lunch?”

 

“Sure,” Derek replies, “I’ll buy some sandwiches at the café in town. When do you wanna go?”

 

Within a few short minutes, they’ve agreed to go on Saturday and for once, they have a good enough excuse to actually tell the Sheriff without causing suspicion. There’s nothing wrong with John knowing Derek and Stiles are going hiking, it’s a perfectly innocent activity - if not for the fact they will likely end up having sex in some bushes somewhere.

 

They spend the next two hours putting up door frames and wall bases before things dissolve into Stiles chucking nails at Derek’s back until he growls and chases after the boy. They crash into a pile of sand and end up having to remove and shake out all their clothes afterwards.

 

 

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Saturday morning dawns bright and beautiful, sun shining and hardly a cloud in the sky. Stiles arrives at the Hale house in his old rust pile of a Jeep and hauls a backpack along, smiling like a loon. The sight makes something warm uncurl in Derek’s belly and he can’t help returning the smile, picking up his own equipment.

 

“You ready to go?” Stiles questions.

 

Derek nods and they set off into the forest, walking east to get to a public trail that runs along the perimeter of the property. It’s late enough for the early morning runners to have vacated the area and early enough that the families haven’t set out for their picnics yet.

 

Even though he prodded, Stiles has refused to let Derek know where they are going. He seems to know his way around the web of trails in the Beacon Hills Preserve, so Derek lets it go and concentrates on enjoying the scenery. Their muted footsteps taps out an even rhythm and as his muscles warm up with the exercise, Derek finds himself relaxing in a way he hasn’t for a long while. It’s refreshing, the chirping of birds much clearer out here. They even see a curious raccoon poking it’s snout through some shrubbery to observe the intruders before retreating.

 

Stiles is unusually quiet, but whenever Derek throws a glance at him, the boy looks peaceful and content, if maybe a little wistful, so he chooses not to comment on it.

 

They’ve been walking for about an hour and the trails are getting smaller and seem very neglected, the bushes on each side invading the path, spreading treacherous roots for them to trip over. Derek feels quite certain this area is not one visited often, at least not by people who don’t have a specific reason to wander so far off the regular trails.

 

The time is nearing noon, when Stiles stops and glares at a misshapen tree like it offended him or something. Derek clears his throat and raises an eyebrow.

 

“Are you lost?”

 

All the response he receives is a stink eye. Stiles stomps back a few steps and tilts his head before his face lights up and he trudges right off the path and into the trees, knee high shrubbery surrounding him.

 

“Not lost,” he hollers back over his shoulder, “I just haven’t been here in about six years. Everything looks a little different.”

 

While eyeing the non existent trail Stiles seems to be following, Derek has to ask, “Are you sure you know where you’re going?”

 

Stiles snorts and halts until Derek is at his side. Then he points to the ground.

 

“See those tracks? This is a path created by the wildlife and it may not be obvious to human eyes, but if you know what to look for, it’s there. This is the right way,” the boy states and throws Derek a crooked smile. Derek examines the dirt under their feet and indeed, there seems to be animal tracks, probably from some kind of deer, and a faint pattern of worn grass in a winding trail through the undergrowth. Who knew the boy had any kind of knowledge about wildlife?

 

Twenty minutes later, Stiles rounds a big oak and stops dead in his tracks. Initially, Derek thinks he’s ran across a bear or mountain lion or something equally dangerous - it would be just his luck - but when he peers around Stiles, there’s nothing to see. At least nothing with claws and fangs. They’ve come to a slope towards a small creek, the ground covered in moss and lush grass, colorful flowers spread over the area. All together, it presents quite an idyllic scene.

 

“Did you lose the badger trail?” Derek teases, giving Stiles a quick poke. The boy doesn’t react at all.

 

In fact, he’s got this weird, intense look on his face, his eyes wide. Derek is instantly worried.

 

“Stiles? Are you all right?”

 

The boy seems to shake himself out of it and gives Derek a small smile.

 

“Yeah, sorry, seeing this place just kinda overwhelmed me for a bit there. I didn’t think it’d be this bad after so many years...” he trails off, shuffling down the slope towards a cluster of trees near the creek.

 

Derek follows him down until he sees a pair of primitive wooden chairs situated underneath. The branches are fanning out and down, reaching for the flowing water, forming a little hideout. The place looks like it’s been abandoned for a long time, weeds growing and winding their way up the chairs, making them look like a part of the scenery; as if the chairs had grown out of the ground, fully formed.

 

Stiles runs a hand over the backrest of one of the chairs and when Derek’s eyes follow the movement, he sees there’s letters branded into the wood, worn by time and weather. He wants to ask what this place is, why it’s special, but there’s a certain feeling in the air and Derek remains silent, waiting for the boy to begin speaking by himself.

 

A few minutes later, Stiles looks up, his eyes slightly blank, and smiles.

 

“I used to come here with my mom, before she...” he trails off, clearing his throat. Derek tenses, he knows Stiles took his mother’s death really hard, as did the Sheriff. Neither of them ever really talk about her if they can avoid it.

 

Before Derek can think of anything to say, Stiles continues talking.

 

“She found this place one day when she was out running. She said she saw a deer running off the main trail and she followed. I guess it’s no big mystery where I got my impulsiveness from... Anyway, she brought me here often in the summers, just us, and we would talk and pick flowers to bring home. On warm days, we would even go into the creek. She taught me to swim there, actually,” the boy says, huffing a laugh. “We never brought Dad out here, this was our special spot, just for us. After she died, I simply couldn’t go. Just the thought of being here without her, made it feel like someone punched a hole through my chest. Going alone would make it even more obvious that she is gone. Forever.”

 

With a heavy sigh, the boy plops down on one of the chairs. Derek’s eyes are watering and his chest is constricting with how much he feels for Stiles. The raw pain is still evident in the boy’s voice, even after all these years. Derek doesn’t know what to do with all the feelings swirling through him, but he knows this is significant. The fact Stiles brought him here and told him the story of this place... well, it shows a daunting amount of trust and, Derek hopes, affection too.

 

“When did you start coming back here?” he inquires, walking over to the chairs.

 

Stiles takes a deep breath and throws Derek a crooked smile.

 

“Today is the first time I’ve been back since she died.”

 

The revelation feels like a punch to Derek’s gut, but in a good way, sort of. He can’t help but feel honored that Stiles has trusted him with this, even if the whole situation feels kind of melancholic. He gestures to the other seat and asks, “Can I?”

 

The boy nods and Derek takes a seat.

 

“Why did you decide to come back now? And why bring me?”

 

Turning to look at a twig flowing by, carried by the creek, Stiles sighs. A sad smile blooms on his face as he glances at Derek before looking away again.

 

“I had a dream about my mum and this place, and I just felt like I needed to come back. I was always afraid this spot would make her death seem even more overwhelming, but now I’m here, it feels right. She loved being here and it’s like being close to her, you know?”

 

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Derek replies, thinking of his own experiences with loss. He and his sister, Laura, lost their parents in a car crash when they were away at college. Derek barely managed to pass his last semester, he was so depressed. Laura still insists on going to their family’s usual picnic spot every 4th of July, bringing pictures of their parents and eating the same store-bought apple pie.

 

He’s brought out of his reverie when he feels a hand sneak onto his thigh. Casting a sideways glance, he sees Stiles is looking at him with an expression of understanding.

 

The boy sighs and smiles, for real this time, although still a tad hesitant.

 

“Yeah I guess you really do know,” he states. “As for why I brought you here with me... well, I realized something recently and I wanted you here with me.”

 

“What did you realize?” Derek inquires, curious.

 

Stiles grins at him and shakes his head.

 

“Nah, I think it might be too much for this occasion. But thank you so much for coming with me, Derek. Your company made the trip here so much easier. I’m not sure I would have made it if I was alone.”

 

“No problem,” Derek answers, digging into his backpack to retrieve some water and their lunch. They spot a few squirrels playing in the branches of some nearby trees as they eat their sandwiches, and Stiles immediately rattles off a ton of information about squirrel behavior and population statistics. Derek rolls his eyes and pretends to be annoyed, but by the way the boy smirks at him, he wasn’t very convincing.

 

They end up spending most of the day in Stiles’ mother’s spot, silently enjoying the view and atmosphere. Derek never was one to buy into those _‘birds chirping and water trickling is pure anti-stress’_ theories, but he can’t deny the calming effects of this particular place. He has never thought of his everyday life as particularly stressful, but there’s a definite lessening of tension in his body. He figures Stiles might be a part of the reason, but the setting doesn’t hurt.

 

When the air starts getting a bit chilly in the late afternoon they pack up, making smalltalk for most of the trip back to the Hale house. Stiles seems content while chattering almost nonstop, but there’s an edge to his gestures, a slight fidgeting and the boy keeps glancing at Derek and looking away, blushing. As they approach the house, Stiles starts to show real nervousness and Derek’s just about to ask him what’s the matter, when a hand latches onto his arm.

 

“Derek, I, uh... I wasn’t sure if I should tell you or not, but you never know what’s gonna happen, right? So... I dunno if you think this is crazy soon or whatever, and no pressure at all to, uh... reciprocate. It _would_ be nice, though, but yeah... I just wanted you to know that I... I think... I love you,” Stiles declares, face flushing a pretty red. The boy clears his throat, staring at his feet like someone spelled out the answers to all of life’s great mysteries with his shoelaces. He looks like he’s just waiting for the world to come crashing down on top of his head or for Derek to start laughing his ass off... or perhaps just run off screaming.

 

Meanwhile, Derek’s brain is stuck on the three little words, the phrase echoing in his head, hammering his eardrums. It’s not like he hasn’t thought about it himself. More than once, even... Or, okay, a lot! His emotions snuck up on him without him even noticing it really, until one day when Stiles bounded into the half finished structure of the Hale house, his face split in a blinding smile. The boy headed straight for Derek and planted a sloppy kiss on him and suddenly, Derek just _knew_. Realization hit him hard, like a shovel to the back of his head - but in a good way.

 

He didn’t tell Stiles then, because he is well aware of how most teenagers throw around the term _I love you_ like it’s a simple thing, not worthy of much thought or consideration, really. There was no reason to pressure the boy into thinking along those lines, Derek was more than happy just letting things between them progress at its own pace.

 

Looking at Stiles now, though, Derek can see he means what he says, that he’s thought a lot about it. It’s also a known fact that neither of the Stilinski men overuse those three words. Derek knows John and Stiles love each other and are as close as a father and teenage son can be, but for all that, they rarely voice it.

 

Trying to buy himself some time, Derek gives the boy a crooked smile and quips, “You _think_?”

 

Stiles huffed in exasperation and rolls his eyes, blush still prominent on his cheeks.

 

“I _know_ , all right? Happy now?”

 

Derek chuckles and nods, attempting to keep himself from looking too gooey happy. It’s just not a good look for him.

 

“Yeah, I’m happy,” he replies in a fond tone, “And I love you, too.”

 

Stiles’ face does a complicated twitch and then the boy launches himself across the space separating them, hugs Derek so hard his ribs creak, smashing their lips together. Derek thinks he catches a _‘Thank God!’_ in there somewhere, but he’s distracted by the eager tongue pushing at his lips to really concentrate on parsing the actual words.

 

They make out for a while, licking and sucking each other’s lips until Stiles’ phone vibrates in his pocket. The boy groans, but pulls back to inspect the screen. He sighs and shoves the phone under Derek’s nose. It’s a text message from the Sheriff, asking Stiles to fetch some chinese on his way home. The boy gives Derek a couple of kisses before muttering about damn diets and stupid, salty foods, breaking away from their embrace with much reluctance. Then he’s climbing into his Jeep and driving home to have dinner with his dad.

 

Derek catches himself smiling like a loon even ten minutes after he lost sight of the rusty old piece of crap rumbling down his driveway.

 

 

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In early June, Derek hires electricians and a plumber to take care of the things he doesn’t want to struggle with himself. When they’re done, all that remains is to paint the rooms and get furniture. Luckily, the Sheriff has to go out of town for a week and Derek offers to let Stiles stay with him, stating they will be able to fill their time working on the house and go furniture shopping. John seems only too happy to know Stiles won’t be spending his time alone at home.

 

The bad conscience is gnawing, but Derek’s bone-deep longing for Stiles pushes it back, allowing him to ignore it.

 

Monday after school, Stiles waltzes into the station carrying a duffel bag and plops down on the edge of Derek’s desk, staying there while keeping up a constant stream of inane babble until closing time. They drive to Derek’s apartment in his Camaro and once there, they don’t even bother to pretend like Stiles isn’t going to be staying in Derek’s bedroom with him.

 

Derek sets out with the intention of at least attempting to wait until bedtime before jumping the boy’s bones, but they don’t even last through dinner before Stiles is on his back on the table, moaning and cursing, his fingers digging deep into Derek’s shoulders. The boy is begging for _more, harder, faster_ and Derek is trying his best to give it to him, using long, deep strokes.

 

“God, fuck, give me _more_ , Derek!” Stiles mewls, clawing at Derek’s back.

 

Seeing as he’s going almost as fast as he can, Derek growls and drags his thumb through the mess of sweat and precome on Stiles’ stomach before shoving that finger up into the boy’s ass along with his cock. Stiles keens and rolls his hips back against Derek, his throbbing, dripping dick twitching with the sensations.

 

“Like that?” Derek pants, punching his straining cock into Stiles’ slick hole, beads of sweat trickling down his back. All the answer he gets, is a reflexive clench of the fingers imbedded in his shoulders and an obscene moan. He figures that’s as close to a _‘yes’_ as he’s going to get at this point, so he pries his free hand off the boy’s hip and wraps it around his bouncing erection instead. After a few quick pulls, Stiles yells out, body spasming, and comes in thick spurts onto his heaving chest. The sight of his scrunched up face and the wrecked sounding _‘Derek!’_ which tears from the boy’s lips makes Derek tumble over the edge, too. His orgasm roars through him, leaving him trembling in a heap on top of Stiles.

 

For a few minutes they merely try to catch their breath without moving. Eventually, the position gets uncomfortable, and Derek slowly pulls his thumb out, bracing his hands on the table to lift off the boy. Just then, Stiles clenches down and Derek’s whole body jerks when the muscles put pressure on his now overly-sensitive cock.

 

“Oh fuck!” he groans, easing back and settling on the chair he abandoned when they climbed half onto the table in their rush. His eyes are drawn south, watching as Stiles’ gaping hole starts to close up, covered in a mess of lube and sweat.

 

“That was freaking awesome,” Stiles gushes, reaching down to feel his own rim with a few fingers. “Shit, when you put that extra finger in, I nearly exploded!”

 

Derek watches, riveted, as the boy pushes a finger inside himself, wiggling it around a bit, chewing his bottom lip.

 

“I wish...” Stiles starts, trailing off with a groan when he hits a sensitive spot.

 

“What?” Derek croaks, his voice gone all husky and raw at the sight of Stiles playing with himself, even when it’s just aimless exploration.

 

A dark blush creeps onto the boy’s cheeks, but he maintains eye contact.

 

“Um, I’d really like to try taking two cocks,” Stiles says and Derek chokes on air, only just refraining from falling off the chair in shock. Before he can get himself together enough to figure out a reply, the boy continues with, “but I don’t want to be with anybody but you, so... Guess it’s not gonna happen.”

 

Even while he’s still reeling, Derek can come up with a solution easily enough.

 

“Well, if you wanna try it, we might be able to figure something else out,” Derek remarks, throwing Stiles a crooked smile. “When we go furniture shopping I thought we’d go a few towns over, so we don’t risk being seen by someone we know. There’s a sex shop not too far away from there. Perhaps we could find a dildo to act as the second participant, if you’d like?”

 

The boy utters a strangled sound, flails to get up and instead falls off the table with a high pitched squeak. Derek fights the urge to smack a palm to his face, bending down to check if Stiles is all right. Aside from the pain from impact with the floor, he seems to be fine and Derek huffs a laugh at the boy’s disgruntled expression.

 

“I hate you,” Stiles mutters, giving Derek some fabulous stink eye.

 

Derek laughs outright at that, extending a hand to help the boy up.

 

“No, you don’t,” he chuckles.

 

In response, the boy glares and stomps off to the bathroom. Derek gives him five minutes before he follows, stripping off his clothes and stepping into the spray. Stiles elbows him for good measure, but softens when Derek uses the good body wash to lather him up and massage his sore back muscles. Apparently, a table isn’t all that comfortable to have sex on. Who knew?

 

 

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Derek and Stiles agrees to go furniture shopping Saturday. They drive in the Camaro since neither of them believe the Jeep would be up for the trip. Derek also has a sneaking suspicion Stiles loves the attention that comes with traveling in a flashy car.

 

They arrive at the shop and start by picking out things for the kitchen and living room. Derek is surprised by how simple and elegant Stiles’ taste is. With the boy’s penchant for graphic t-shirts and comics, Derek half expected him to choose color themes by referring to a superhero of some kind.

 

They reach the bedroom section and Derek is faced with a new dilemma. Should he get a queen size bed or the king size Stiles is rooting for? It’s not like he doesn’t know what will be more comfortable when Stiles is staying the night - restless sleeper is an understatement - but choosing the bigger, more coupley solution is kind of a statement. Derek doesn’t doubt Stiles is someone he could happily spend the rest of his life with, but the boy is only just starting college in the fall - and oh fuck, Derek needs to ask Stiles where he’s even going! Will the boy want to keep up their relationship while he’s away?

 

Derek didn’t even notice he’d stopped, standing there staring at the rows upon rows of beds, like a lost child. Stiles snorts and meanders back from where he’s been admiring a king size, with massive bedposts.

 

“Stop overthinking it and just take a look around,” he says.

 

When Derek sends him a withering glare, Stiles only rolls his eyes.

 

“Don’t give me that look, Derek! I could feel you angsting from twenty feet away!”

 

Just as Derek steps over the divider between the kitchen and bedroom sections with a deep sigh, a saleswoman bustles over, an exaggerated smile plastered on her face.

 

“Can I help you?” she chirps.

 

Stiles beams at her - Derek has a suspicion he’s being paid to spend as much time as possible grinning from ear to ear - and replies, “We’re looking for a new bed.”

 

“Well, you’ve come to the right spot, gentlemen. Are you looking for one each?” she asks, still smiling like a loon.

 

Stiles’ expression turns confused, “No, a king size is probably what I’d prefer. Unless Derek, here, insists it’s too expensive.”

 

Derek settles for sighing like he can’t believe this is his life and Stiles crows in victory like the child he is.

 

The saleswoman looks puzzled for a second, before her frown clears up. She steers them in the direction towards the back and as Stiles falls into step beside her, she leans in and remarks, “It’s so nice of you to help your uncle pick out a bed.”

 

Stiles looks gobsmacked for a few moments before he blushes and starts to shake his head really fast.

 

“Oh! Sorry,” the saleswoman squeaks, “is he your dad? I just thought... you don’t look alike, so...”

 

With enormous effort, Derek manages not to smack his head into the wall. This exact situation is one he should have predicted and prepared for. Stiles is still sputtering, so Derek turns to read the nametag on the woman’s uniform.

 

“Alys, I’m sorry for the confusion. I’m gay and this is my boyfriend,” Derek states.

 

The saleswoman is flushing dark red, gaping at them.

 

“We’re not actually related, if that helps,” Stiles quips.

 

She startles and stammers, “Oh, I’m terribly sorry! How presumptuous of me! Well, here’s our king size selection,” she declares, making a sweeping motion with her hand. “Do you wanna browse a bit?”

 

By her shifty demeanor, Derek can tell without a doubt she wants to get out of there, so he nods.

 

“Sure, we will take a look around. Thank you.”

 

When she scurries off, Stiles raises his eyebrows and mumbles, “Awkward.”

 

“You get used to it,” Derek sighs, shuffling forward to inspect the beds. The boy throws a look after the saleswoman and narrows his eyes, which causes Derek to twist around to see as well. Alys is leaned in towards an elderly lady clutching a pair of hideous oven mitts, whispering furiously. The old lady is looking absolutely scandalized, throwing some very obvious glances at them.

 

Great, so this is one of those places where they will be ogled like they are escapees from the local mental ward!

 

Stiles looks very uncomfortable, blushing and fidgeting. Derek reaches out and grasps his hand.

 

“Sorry,” Stiles whispers, “Perhaps you should have come without me.”

 

The boy looks miserable.

 

“No!” Derek huffs, squeezing Stiles’ hand in reassurance. “No matter if it’s the gay thing or the age thing, or even both, we have every right to be here! I’m not ashamed of who I am and I am _certainly_ not ashamed of you!”

 

Judging by the surprised, a bit starry-eyed, expression on the boy’s face, that was the right thing to say. Stiles smiles and bumps Derek’s shoulder, cheeks still a little red.

 

“You totally love me,” Stiles laughs.

 

Instead of answering verbally, Derek leans in and plants a quick, closed-mouth kiss full on the boy’s lips. The kiss is not in any way a heated one, just a simple show of affection, but there’s still a shocked gasp from their audience. An idea occurs to Derek and he turns to Stiles with a mischievous smile.

 

“Do you wanna have a little fun?”

 

Stiles takes one look at Derek’s wolfish grin and his eyes sparkle with that manic gleam, which always spell trouble for whoever’s in the vicinity. According to the Sheriff, this look alone could make seasoned teachers weep.

 

“What did you have in mind?” the boy inquires, a huge smirk on his face.

 

Derek waggles his eyebrows and whispers, “Just go along with it, okay?”

 

Then he pulls his expression into a polite mask and spins towards the two women.

 

“Excuse me, can we get some help?”

 

Alys seems to locate her customer friendly attitude and bustles over, beaming at them.

 

“Sure, what can I do for you?”

 

Derek makes sure to keep a straight face, only letting a slight bewilderment shine through.

 

“Well, we were wondering if some of these models are... um... _sturdier_ than others?”

 

The saleswoman looks puzzled.

 

“I assure you, sir, all our furniture is robust and well built. There’s a three year guarantee on everything.”

 

While nodding in apparent understanding, Derek risks a glance at Stiles. The boy is as straight-faced as Derek himself, but there’s a tiny twitch in the corner of his right eye which contradicts the calm and innocent facade.

 

“Excellent!” Derek exclaims, “It’s just... I need a bed which will be able to withstand vigorous activity. Perhaps something with a metal frame?”

 

Alys is blushing a deep, dark red, but manages to point to a collection of large beds with solid, steel frames.

 

“These are very... hardy, and the designs are elegant as well as functional. This one,” she says, pointing to a bed with a headboard formed of intricate, spiraled wires, “is very popular with newlyweds and uh... passionate couples.”

 

Derek tries very hard not to crack and laugh at the frazzled, stammering saleswoman. He stalks up to the bed in question and grabs the headboard, giving it a good shake. It doesn’t squeak or creak, so Derek beams at her and declares, “Oh yes, this one is great! We could even use the good handcuffs on it, it’s very steady,” he finishes, patting the metal while twirling around to wink at Stiles.

 

Alys sputters behind him and Stiles sees his chance to partake in the fun.

 

“Awesome, it’s so annoying when the bed frame gives up on us,” the boy says and leans in towards the saleswoman, giving her a conspiratorial side glance and whispering, “When Derek gets going, he doesn’t like to stop, if you know what I mean.”

 

She meeps, blushing even darker red and darts a quick glance at Derek before hastening to avert her eyes. It’s hilarious to watch. Stiles ignores her predicament and chooses to pounce onto the bed, testing the mattress before cheering, “I totally vote for this one!”

 

Poor Alys looks like she’s about to keel over, so Derek takes mercy on her and waves to the bed in question.

 

“I’ll take that one, then. Thank you for your help.”

 

Stiles muffles his cackling into a decorative comforter as the chagrined saleswoman flees as fast as her stilettos allow her to.

 

Derek fills in an order form and a delivery address, and pays before they continue on their way. The next stop is the sex shop. As soon as they enter, Stiles squeals and tears off towards the section of wall where an array of dildos and vibrators are displayed. Every imaginable color and shape are represented.

 

For a minute Derek is stumped by Stiles’ lack of embarrassment. It seems like it was only a short time ago he was a blushing virgin - literally! When Derek does a mental count, though, it turns out they’ve been involved over three months and the boy is far from blushing now! Besides, he’s always been very enthusiastic about sex, right from the start.

 

Feeling a fond smile creep onto his face, Derek makes his way over to his boyfriend, who’s inspecting an impressive dildo in a gaudy, green color.

 

 

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	5. Chapter 5

 

**Chapter 5**

 

 

When they return to Derek’s apartment that night, they have a variety of lube, three different kinds of condoms - Stiles had insisted on trying out the ribbed kind, despite Derek’s dubious frown - a black butt plug and the almost neon green dildo. Stiles made some very inappropriate, completely moronic references to The Hulk, which Derek refused to even dignify with an answer. Bad enough he was convinced to buy the damn thing!

 

Instead of pouting about being coerced into buying a mutant colored sex toy, Derek drags Stiles to the bedroom and does his best to blow the boy’s mind - as well as his dick.

 

Stiles is still dazed and trembling from his first orgasm when Derek fetches the lube and their new toy. He’s already stretched the boy some while blowing him, so he slicks the dildo and rubs the tip between the boy’s ass cheeks, up and down his cleft. He lets the toy pause over Stiles’ entrance, twisting it a little, just enough for him to feel the friction. The boy mewls and spreads his legs further in invitation.

 

“I guess there are some advantages to having a younger lover,” Derek snorts in fond amusement at the wanton display.

 

Even through his post-orgasm haze, Stiles manages to send Derek a narrow-eyed glare. In retaliation, Derek pushes on the dildo and it slips through the muscle, sliding in an inch. The boy’s pout diminishes and he rocks his hips downward, a blissed smile on his face.

 

“Come on, Derek, get on with it. I wanna get to the good part sometime today!”

 

“The good part?” Derek questions, eyebrows raised.

 

Stiles groans in response.

 

“Ugh! You know what I mean! The part with two cocks in my ass. It’s always great with you, don’t worry, Sourpuss, but this is gonna be epic! I just _know_ it!”

 

Huffing in fake offense, Derek works the toy in a sharp rhythm, fucking Stiles with it until he’s writhing, his body arched, muscles clenching. Derek can feel his own erection pulsating in his way-too-snug jeans. He never even got out of them, he was so focused on Stiles.

 

Before long, the boy starts begging, his voice raw and hoarse. Wanting to prepare Stiles properly, Derek pushes in first one finger and then another in addition to the toy. The boy’s legs twitch when Derek glances his prostate on an inward thrust, thigh muscles trembling. When Derek lets go of the dildo, retreating to undress, Stiles _whines_ and releases the sheets from the death grip he had on them, grasping the toy instead. Derek nearly explodes at the sight, before he’s even gotten out of his boxer-briefs.

 

“Jesus, _fuck_ , Stiles! Do you have any idea how you look right now?” he croaks, voice strained.

 

The only answer he gets is a moan and then a wail when Stiles shoves the dildo in deep, harder than Derek has dared so far.

 

Grasping the base of his erection tightly, Derek climbs onto the mattress, settling in between Stiles’ thighs. When he’s in place, he rolls on a condom and pours on a generous amount of lube. With what they’re trying to accomplish, he figures it’s better to use plenty.

 

Stiles seems to have come back to the land of the living and has abandoned the dildo in favor of petting Derek’s chest, rubbing his nipples. It’s sending delicious little tingles up and down his spine.

 

“So, how do we do this?” the boy asks, still out of breath.

 

“I’m thinking it’ll be easiest if I control the toy - I have a better angle and that way you can concentrate on receiving.”

 

Stiles nods, giving Derek a beaming smile and reaches for him, making eager grabby hands. He looks like a child about to enter a candy store and Derek barely curbs the urge to laugh.

 

He lines up his cock above the dildo, pressing the tip against the already stretched rim and lifts his gaze to check Stiles’ expression.

 

“You ready?” Derek inquires in a breathless voice.

 

“Yeah,” the boy answers, a soft smile on his face.

 

As Derek braces himself, Stiles bites into his bottom lip in anticipation, no doubt waiting for the intrusion. Having no need to delay any further, Derek pushes forward, still keeping a firm hold of his cock. Compared to when Stiles’ ass isn’t already occupied, the pressure on his dick is astounding. Stiles hisses as the head pops in and Derek glances at his face, trying to gauge how much pain he’s in. The boy’s face is scrunched up, his jaw set, but his eyes are burning, focused entirely on Derek.

 

“Don’t you dare stop!” Stiles grits out, digging his heels into Derek’s back.

 

With a reassuring nod, Derek squeezes in another inch, pausing when he feels Stiles’ inner muscles clenching involuntarily in reaction to the burn. He knew the pressure on his cock would be more intense than usual, but even with his stamina, it’s gonna be a short ride.

 

“Holy fuck you’re tight like this!” Derek groans, “Not gonna last long.”

 

The weird feeling of the dildo along his cock is in fact probably the only thing keeping Derek from losing it as he shoves in the rest of the way. He bottoms out, pelvis flush with Stiles’ ass, exhaling shakily.

 

Stiles’ fingers are clenching and unclenching and his eyes are still screwed shut.

 

“Tell me when I can move,” Derek grits out, watching Stiles’ abs ripple as the boy wiggles around a bit.

 

Just watching Stiles for signs of how to proceed is all Derek can manage to concentrate on. His entire body is buzzing and he feels like anything could trigger his release at this point, so he focuses on on trying to catalogue the million emotions flitting across the boy’s face.

 

Eventually, Stiles utters a garbled, “Move.”

 

Taking care to not move too fast or too deep, Derek rolls his hips.

 

“Oh God!” Stiles moans, his eyes going wide. Derek keeps a hand on the toy as he pulls back, then pushes in again. The kid _mewls_ , raking his nails down Derek’s back, no doubt leaving red lines in their wake.

 

They soon descend into a rhythm of thrusting and writhing, both moaning and gasping, sweat slicking their skin between them. Stiles tries to maintain eye contact, but his body is working against him. The sensations are intense, even for Derek, who doesn’t - in effect - have two cocks in his ass, so he can easily imagine it’s difficult for the boy to override the urge to close his eyes and give himself over.

 

Every inwards thrust forces Derek to the edge, his balls tightening and the telltale tingle fluttering on and off at the base of his spine. The only reason he’s still going and not a floppy heap on top of the boy, is the fact he has to concentrate on handling the dildo as well.

 

Stiles is getting louder, panting and moaning in a manner so obscene, Derek has never seen or heard anything like it. A punch of heat flares in his groin at the sight. He’s quite sure it’ll play a big part in tipping him over the edge. Which will inevitably happen very soon.

 

Grabbing Stiles’ drooling cock, pumping it in long, tight pulls, Derek vows to bring the boy off before he comes himself. He is not a selfish lover and this whole thing was for Stiles anyway, though Derek likes it a lot, too. _A lot!_

 

Suddenly, Stiles’ hands creep up from their previous position on Derek’s back, past his neck and into his hair. Pressure urges him forward and the kid strains upward, reaching for a kiss. Derek bends lower, sealing their lips together. He loves kissing Stiles, it’s a fierce mix of gentle and passionate, tongues tangling and teeth nipping.

 

In his bent over state, Derek struggles to keep up the rhythm and pace of his undulating hips. He settles for a deep, close grinding while his almost trapped hand continues working the boy’s dick between them.

 

“Yes, yes, _yes!_ Like that!” Stiles wails. “Oh my... _Fuck!_ Keep going!”

 

Derek punches his hips forward one, two, three times and then the erection in his hand jerks and shoots out long squirts of come. The sticky white lands on Stiles’ chest, stomach and a little on the sheets. The last dribbles onto Derek’s hand and once he’s finished squeezing the softening cock, he brings his hand up to lick the come off. The taste isn’t pleasant, but Derek likes the act of swallowing his lover’s fluids.

 

As Stiles’ face relaxes into a slack and blissed out grimace, Derek lets go of his restraint, letting himself feel it all. The familiar tingling roars up his spine, double the usual intensity and releases in spasming muscles and what feels like an honest to God explosion of pleasure, reaching every single cell in his trembling, jerking body.

 

“Fuck!” Stiles exclaims when Derek finally stills, “That felt... _shit_ , I actually have _no_ words! No words are adequate. It’s kinda _ouch, oh my God too much_ , but at the same time _so fucking good I’m gonna explode into teeny tiny pieces_!”

 

Derek chuckle-snorts and manages to gather enough of his fast dwindling strength to carefully pull out and remove the dildo as well. The boy whines and then flops down, starfished on the bed.

 

“I think you destroyed me,” Stiles groans. “In the good way, but still... I’m not moving before tomorrow. Maybe not even then.”

 

Derek grins and forces himself on his feet to fetch a washcloth from the bathroom to clean them both up.

 

They fall asleep, Derek’s head pillowed on Stiles’ chest - he’s not a cuddler, dammit, he is _not!_ He just... likes... cuddling. Shut up!

 

 

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In the morning, Stiles gets up to pee, then curses and declares, “I’m staying in bed today and no way your weenie is getting anywhere near my ass!”

 

“My _weenie_?” Derek huffs, a skeptical eyebrow raised.

 

“Hey! It destroyed _my_ ass, I can call it whatever I like,” Stiles snarks.

 

Derek rolls his eyes and scoffs.

 

When Stiles returns to bed, Derek waits until he’s settled in and has closed his eyes before casually throwing his thoughts out there.

 

“Well, if you still wanna have sex today, you could fuck me instead?”

 

There’s a beat of total silence before the pile of blankets next to Derek heaves and parts, Stiles’ head popping out to stare, wide-eyed.

 

“ _Are you serious_?” he squeals.

 

In response, Derek levels an exasperated glare at him. The boy is reacting like he didn’t offer this very possibility the first time they had sex.

 

“Derek!”

 

“No, I’m always kidding when we talk about our sexlife,” Derek says, his tone dripping sarcasm.

 

“Oh my God, yes!” Stiles yelps, throwing himself on top of Derek, kissing every spot of skin he can reach.

 

Somehow, it evolves into a very sloppy round of mutual blowjobs, but it’s not like either of them are complaining. Also, alternative breakfast! Or, you know... not.

 

 

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They do end up spending most of Sunday in bed, but they are not sleeping much. There’s more blowjobs, some rimming - for Derek, Stiles kicks him if he gets too close to his still aching hole - and before the day is over, Stiles has fucked him twice. The boy got confident quite fast and he manhandled Derek like a pro. Furthermore, they discovered that Stiles has some possessive tendencies. The boy loves fucking Derek hard, then having him wear the buttplug until he’s ready to go again. Stiles likes to talk his way through a slow fuck, muttering filth into Derek’s ears about how he loves keeping Derek open for his cock, how he wishes he could fill Derek up and make him to go to work with a come-filled ass. The last part may or may not make Derek whimper and offer his ass like a cock hungry slut.

 

At this point, they’ve literally had sex on all available surfaces in the apartment. At least the ones big enough.

 

After showering that night, the last night he’s staying with Derek, Stiles discovers he’s run out of clean underwear. Derek tells him to help himself, so the boy shuffles through the underwear drawer, but the boxer-briefs are too large for his slim hips.

  
“Try in the back of the closet, there might be some from when I was younger, in the bag there,” Derek suggests when Stiles complains.

 

A few minutes pass before there’s an “Aha!” from the bedroom. Derek continues cooking dinner until there’s footsteps behind him and Stiles says, “Found something that fits.”

 

Twisting around to give the boy a smile, Derek is greeted with a sight he never thought he’d see.

 

Stiles has somehow crammed himself into a pair of tight, pink panties. The material clings to every curve and bulges obscenely where it’s stretched to accommodate Stiles’ cock and balls. A lace trimmed waistband completes the image.

 

Derek _gapes._

 

He means to say “What’s that?”, but what comes out is a strangled, unidentifiable sound. His cheeks are heating up as he blushes and there’s a molten, hot stab of desire in his gut. Well, hello there, kink he never knew he had!

 

“Is there something I should know, Derek?” Stiles smirks, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

 

Derek smiles crookedly in return.

 

“Those are my sister’s. Laura’s.”

 

Shrugging, Stiles exclaims, “Her loss!”

 

After uttering a mock growl, Derek carts the boy off to the bedroom. When they are done, he’s positive Laura wouldn’t want these panties back. Ever!

 

No matter, Derek is quite fond of them, even drenched in his and Stiles’ combined come.

 

 

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Ever since Derek was little, Laura has had this sixth sense for appearing when it’s least convenient. Perhaps she just has a phenomenal ability to sense where and when her appearance will cause the most trouble.

 

She displays her evil powers once again by showing up Friday night, unannounced, at Derek’s apartment while he and Stiles are out for a run in the woods around the Hale house. She has a key and doesn’t hesitate to let herself in and raid the fridge for Derek’s stash of swiss chocolate.

 

When Derek and Stiles arrive, bursting through the door already pawing at each other, desperate to get naked, Laura remains sitting in the armchair. Like the devil she is, she just keeps watching as Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s neck, moaning into their kisses. The display is getting truly obscene, Derek mouthing at Stiles’ newly naked stomach, before she interrupts with an amused, “Oh my!”

 

Later, they will both deny screaming like teenaged girls, but with the way Laura cackles at them, it would seem their protests are in vain.

 

The laughter stops, though, when Laura gets a good look at Stiles. Her lips pinch together in disapproval and the glare she levels at Derek makes him flashback to that time he got so drunk he cornered his sister’s best friend while Laura was in the bathroom, and educated the poor girl in detail, about why gay sex is superior to any other kind.

 

“Derek, correct me if I’m wrong here, but the last time I saw you, you weren’t actually a cradle robbing pervert, right?”

 

There are the eyebrows of doom, Derek almost missed them. Almost.

 

Stiles is sputtering, his face turning red with impressive speed. Snorting, Derek gestures between his sister and boyfriend.

 

“Laura, this is my boyfriend Stiles. Stiles, this is my sister, Laura. I’d tell you she’s normally nice, but that’d be a lie, so...”

 

He anticipates immediate retaliation, so when Laura punches him in the arm, Derek doesn’t even flinch.

 

“Seriously, Derek! What the hell were you thinking? Is he even legal?”

 

“Hey!” Stiles exclaims, indignant. “I’m totally legal! It’s not my fault my face looks like it belongs on a fifteen year old. The rest of me is very grown up, just ask Derek!”

 

Laura looks at Derek with an expression that clearly says, _really, this guy?_

 

Apparently, Stiles sees it too, and the boy just slumps, his shoulders sagging. Throwing Laura a timid glance, Stiles goes to grab his shirt, putting it back on.

 

“I’ll just go. See you later, Derek.”

 

Before Stiles reaches the door, Derek has a hold of his sleeve, pulling him back in. He doesn’t want the boy to leave like this. Leaning in, Derek kisses Stiles’ soft lips, framing the boy’s face with his hands.

 

“I’ll walk you out,” Derek mumbles.

 

When they reach the door, Stiles turns a dejected face towards Derek.

 

“She doesn’t like me, huh?”

 

“She doesn’t know you yet,” Derek says, trying to soothe him. “Besides, she’s probably worried about me and what I’m getting myself into. We knew this was gonna be hard when we went into it, right?”

 

“Yeah,” the boys sighs. “I guess in my head it just doesn’t matter. I love you, and you love me. That’s all there is to it, as far as I’m concerned. I keep forgetting how other people see it.”

 

“I’ll talk to her, and you can come back tomorrow morning, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

 

Stiles nods, but Derek can tell he’s still really bothered by the situation. He’s biting his lips, looking up at Derek with wide, fearful eyes.

 

“I want her to like me, she’s your only family and... I can’t... What if she hates me?”

 

Ignoring the sudden rush in his stomach, Derek tips Stiles’ head up so he can look into the boy’s eyes.

 

“She won’t! She won’t, Stiles,” Derek sighs, hugging him close.

 

“You don’t know that,” Stiles protests, his voice dangerously close to breaking.

 

“Yes, he does,” a soft voice to their right interjects.

 

They both look up to see Laura standing in the doorway into the living room, a soft, speculative expression on her face. She walks over and sticks her hand out towards Stiles.

 

“I’m Laura, and I’m afraid we got off to a bad start. Wanna try again?”

 

At first, Stiles seems hesitant, like he’s afraid to believe it, but he thaws quickly. Affection swells in Derek’s chest as he watches his sister roll her eyes at Stiles’ timid handshake, reeling the boy in for a hug. Laura may be a little harsh, but her heart is in the right place and she is fiercely protective of her family. Especially since the two of them are the only ones left. Judging by her expression, she’s observed something in their interactions, which caused her to re-evaluate her initial impression.

 

After the rough start, Laura and Stiles get along fabulously. Derek’s sure they will make his life a living hell in no time, but he can’t help being happy about it anyway.

 

They order pizza for dinner and sit up late chatting and kidding around. It’s the most content Derek has felt in a long time and when he glances at Stiles, the boy looks like this is all he’s ever wanted from life. More than a few times, he catches Laura watching the pair of them with a crooked smile and a wondering glint in her eyes. Knowing her, it’s obvious she’s seen something that put her unease to rest and Derek suspects it’s the blatant devotion bursting out of Stiles in every sentence, every movement, every little twitch, even.

 

Before Laura goes back to her place - she lives about an hour away with her boyfriend - Stiles and Derek make her promise not to tell anyone about them. She’s not happy about it, but complies with their wishes after extracting a promise to keep in touch more often. One foot out the door, she turns back and hauls Stiles in for another bone crunching hug.

 

“Welcome to the family, Stiles,” she grins, skipping down the footpath to the parking lot.

 

Stiles is so busy gaping, he doesn’t even wave at Laura’s car as she speeds away. Then he squeals and throws himself at Derek with the force of a small wrecking ball, literally climbs Derek like a tree, and starts planting wet kisses all over his face. Mustering all his strength, Derek kicks the door shut, praying none of his neighbours saw the blatant display of affection, and carries the boy to the bedroom. Once there, Stiles proceeds to show all of his appreciation in very sexy, brain-melting ways. Derek loses count of their combined orgasms after Stiles’ fourth and his third. There’s only so much rimming, blowing and fucking the mind can endure before dissolving into a stew of _Oh my God_ and _Fuck yes_!

 

 

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	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 6 for you. Only 2 more to go :)
> 
> **WARNINGS:** This chapter contains hatecrime (physical and verbal assault), so beware of possible triggers.
> 
> Me no own Teen Wolf...

 

 

**Chapter 6**

 

When they get the call, Derek is on duty with Boyd at the station. It’s been three weeks since the Sheriff came home and since Stiles went back to his father’s house, at least during the nights. Derek is missing the boy like crazy. His apartment feels so empty now.

 

The dead serious voice on the phone rips him out of his daydreaming, though.

 

“We’ve got an assault in an alley off Main Street,” a voice Derek identifies as Officer Brown says. “Some gay kid was beat up pretty bad. We need one of you to go interview witnesses and one to go to the hospital to speak to the victim.”

 

As soon as the cop had mentioned a gay kid, Derek had broken out in a cold sweat.

 

“Do you have the name of the victim?” he demands.

 

“I’m not sure, Officer Hale, I... oh, just a second.”

 

Another voice, tinny and distant, sounds on the other end of the line. Someone else is talking to Officer Brown, but Derek can’t make out the words.

 

When there’s a tentative “You still there?”, Derek knows something is wrong. Brown is never timid, ever!

 

“Yeah,” he croaks.

 

“I was just informed it was the Sheriff’s kid,” Officer Brown sighs.

 

“No!” Derek shouts, his worst fears crashing down on top of him, “No, no, no!”

 

“I know. The Sheriff has had more than his share of bad luck already.”

 

Derek doesn’t even wait to say goodbye, he just disconnects and barks at Boyd to go into town while he himself sprints to a patrol car and speeds off towards the hospital, tires squealing. It’s a good thing he’s got the siren and lights because he drives like a maniac all the way and with all the commotion, people get out of the way fast enough.

 

Panic is seeping into him, gradually poisoning his brain and his stomach is roiling. Thoughts of Stiles, broken and bloodied, keeps crawling into his mind and his grip on the steering wheel is so tight his knuckles turn white.

 

Reaching the hospital he throws the car into a parking space and tears off for the entrance. He skids into the reception and leans over the desk, panting. The nurse gives him a suspicious glare, but seems willing to let him have the benefit of the doubt when she spots the badge on his shirt.

 

“How may I help you, Officer Hale?”

 

“Stiles! How is he? Can I see him? Has the Sheriff been informed?” he blurts, all in one breath.

 

“Goodness me!” she exclaims, “Yes, Stilinski Junior is here, they brought him in not too long ago. The Sheriff is with him now. They are still checking him over, but he has at least bruised ribs, a dislocated shoulder, some other cuts and bruises and possibly a concussion. His head was smashed into a wall, poor thing.”

 

Derek’s stomach drops clean out of his body and spots dance in his vision. He feels sick. Through the buzzing in his ears, he hears the nurse calling his name, sounding concerned. He shakes his head to clear it and nods at her.

 

“Will you fetch me when I can go in to see him? We need his statement.”

 

“Of course, Officer,” she assures him and Derek retreats to a chair in the waiting area, annoying everybody in the vicinity by restlessly tapping his foot and getting up to pace around at regular intervals.

 

Time seems to be moving at a snail’s pace, making the two hours he waits seem like an eternity. When the nurse finally comes to get him, he’s chewed his nails to about half of their normal length.

 

While giving him directions, the nurse tells him Stiles has a light concussion and a nasty headache. They want to keep him for a few days to observe in case of internal bleeding or any other complications, but she assures him it’s not as bad as it could’ve been in a case like this.

 

There are plenty of other injuries though, and when Derek slips into the boy’s ward, he can’t hold back a shocked gasp. Bandages cover most of Stiles’ chest and there are several stitched-up lacerations on his arms. Blue and purple bruises are blooming on the usually pale skin and it makes Derek ache to see him like this. So quiet. So _still_.

 

Beside the bed and the beeping machines, the Sheriff is seated. He looks old and worn, a permanent frown etched into his forehead. Derek wants to rush over and fuss over Stiles, make sure he’s still alive and feel the soft skin, but he can’t. As far as John knows, Derek is a friend and a colleague, who cares about Stiles, no question about it, but no one aside from the boy himself knows what they truly are to each other. Derek has no right to act like the boyfriend he in fact is. All he wants is to hug Stiles close and bury his head in the crook of the boy’s neck, breathing his scent in - it’s like a physical craving, he knows he can’t indulge.

 

Reining his emotion in tight, he walks over to stand beside John, clapping a supportive hand on the Sheriff’s shoulder.

 

“I’m so sorry, John. How is he?”

 

“They say he’ll be okay. He’s resting now, so that’s good, but... look at him, Derek! He didn’t do anything to deserve this! He was just in town to see a movie with Scott and when he cancelled, Stiles was on his way back to the Jeep. They came out of nowhere. I don’t even know how they knew he’s gay? I mean, he’s been open about it, but it’s not like he’s broadcasting it. As far as I know, he hasn’t even been dating!” the Sheriff exclaims, his whole attitude defeated and downtrodden.

 

Try as he might, Derek doesn’t manage to stop the wince at the last sentence. The guilt of hiding his relationship with Stiles from John is a sore spot, growing larger every day. Before he can come up with anything to say, John gets up from his chair and sighs, dragging a hand through his hair.

 

“Can I persuade you to stay with him for a bit? I have to go to the station and since he’s sleeping now...”

 

Derek nods, trying not to look too eager.

 

“Of course, John! I’ll call you if he wakes up, yeah?”

 

The Sheriff attempts a smile and walks out, shoulders hunched and gait stiff. Derek suspects hospitals - and this one in particular - still reminds John of losing his wife and the heartbreak of those last, long months. Coming back here can’t be easy, especially for something like this.

 

When they’re alone, Derek has so many questions, but he can’t get an answer before Stiles wakes up, so he contents himself by fussing; adjusting the IVs and fluffing the pillow. Smoothing the hair out of Stiles’ face, keeping clear of the bruised, swollen areas. He’s just about to bend down to steal a quick kiss when the door opens. Derek jerks back, afraid of being caught in a compromising position, but it’s only a nurse bustling in. She takes one look at his guilty face and then unleashes her scrutiny on all the tubes and monitors, checking to make sure everything’s in order.

 

Even though he knows he’s hovering, Derek can’t help himself. He pats the blanket covering Stiles’ lower body and rearranges his hands so the IV isn’t tugging at his skin.

 

Eventually, the nurse sighs.

 

“Sir, he’s doing well under the circumstances. He’s not exactly defenseless either, thank God!”

 

Derek is sure his face is the epitome of confusion and she smiles with her eyes before continuing. “One of the guys involved in the attack is down the hall with a broken nose and a fractured wrist. Nothing he didn’t have coming, if you ask me.”

 

While he’s busy gaping like an idiot, Stiles has apparently woken up, because his croaky voice interjects, “What? I’m a cop’s kid! You think I don’t know self defense? _Please!_ ”

 

The boy rolls his eyes and then winces from the pain.

 

After the nurse leaves, Derek sits down in the abandoned chair by the bed and risks taking Stiles’ hand.

 

“You scared me, Stiles! How did this happen?”

 

“I don’t even know! They came out of nowhere, three guys, reeking of booze and just smacked me into the wall. I got up again and managed to crack the big guy’s nose, but then the two smaller ones grabbed me to hold me still. I guess they discovered I wasn’t exactly a little fag princess like they thought. They yelled all kinds of crap at me. Homophobic slurs, really unimaginative and crude. Kicked me and punched me. I managed to get a few kicks in, guess that’s where I hit the guy’s wrist... I blacked out before they stopped though, so I have no recollection of being brought here and no idea why they stopped. I remember panicking, thinking they wouldn’t stop until they’d killed me...” the boy trails off with a look of dawning horror on his face, realizing how close he came to dying.

 

“Someone heard your screams and chose to act like a human being instead of a coward. When he showed up, they ran away,” Derek growls, squeezing Stiles’ hand to offer comfort.

 

Despite it being the last thing he wants to do, Derek spends a long time talking the whole experience through with Stiles. Getting it all out is a huge relief, he knows, and with some luck, this will alleviate future traumas connected to this incident. Not that Derek’s optimistic enough to think the attack won’t affect the boy. It will, no doubt about that, but he hopes it won’t be too severe.

 

As soon as they’re done talking, Derek lets the Sheriff know Stiles has woken up and John arrives not too long after, looking harried. He hugs Stiles and Derek takes that as his cue to leave, going back to the station to fill out his reports and clock out.

 

 

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The hospital lets Stiles go after two days and he’s escorted home by the Sheriff. Derek is jittery all day, wanting to be with him, but he can’t afford to seem too obsessive, so he takes a long run and reads a book.

 

His salvation comes in the form of John calling to ask if he’d be amenable to staying the night in the Stilinski house while the Sheriff is at work. John doesn’t want his son to be home alone after what happened. Derek agrees.

 

When he arrives at the Stilinski house, the Sheriff is leaving and he waves as he drives down the street.

 

Derek finds Stiles on the couch in the living room, burrowed in blankets. The boy makes grabby hands - or actually _a_ grabby hand, seeing as the arm that was dislocated is in a sling - as soon as he sees Derek and he obliges, sinking down next to the nest of blankets.

 

“Missed you,” Stiles mumbles. The boy leans into Derek, wiggling around until he’s worked his way under an arm and settles in with a contented sigh.

 

“Missed you too,” Derek confesses.

 

Silence reigns for a couple of long moments, until Stiles sighs.

 

“I don’t like not being able to call for you and see you every day. This hiding game is getting really tiresome.”

 

“Yeah, it is,” Derek agrees. “Maybe we should stop.”

 

For some reason, Stiles tenses under his arm. Derek glances down at the boy, but his face is lowered, hiding his expression.

 

“So, you’re breaking up with me? Guess a part of me always feared the cons would outweigh the pros sooner or later.”

 

The deprecating, bitter laugh that concludes the sentence causes a stab of pain to shoot right through Derek’s chest.

 

“What? No! Why would I do that?” he blurts, staring bewildered at the boy.

 

“Well, you said we couldn’t tell anyone since it’d get you fired and it wasn’t worth it, so when you say we shouldn’t keep the secret anymore, the logical conclusion is that you’re breaking up with me, right? No more secret to keep?”

 

Stiles looks like he’s decided to be a brave fool, trying to keep the hurt off his face, but it shows enough for Derek to acknowledge it.

 

“I said those things before we even had a chance to talk about our relationship, Stiles! I mean, how was I to know back then that we’d get this serious, huh? This is still not ideal, what we have, not to others! They will judge us for it and you have to determine for yourself if you feel it’s worth it. To me, it’s definitely important enough to risk going public. If something like this happens again, I don’t want to be sneaking in under false pretenses, I want to be able to be by your side, like I’m supposed to. Having to stand back and wait was killing me! So, if you’re willing to face the music, we’ll tell your dad. It’s your decision.”

 

For a while, Stiles just _looks_ , his honey browns searching Derek’s face for something only known to him. Derek waits him out and eventually, Stiles smiles, big and blinding, and tilts in to press his lips to Derek’s. Then he bursts into laughs, and just keeps laughing.

 

“What?” Derek inquires, feeling his own eyebrows creeping up his forehead in fond exasperation.

 

“Oh my God! They’re gonna go apeshit in town when they find out! Holy crap!” Stiles cackles before descending into a fit of hysterical giggles.

 

Snorting and rolling his eyes seem to be the best response to that, so it’s what Derek does.

 

 

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They spend the evening watching reruns of _Will & Grace_, despite Derek’s vehement protesting. Stiles abuses the _I’m-the-injured-one-so-I-get-to-decide_ card and concludes with a “Shut up, Derek! It’s funny!”.

 

Once they’ve run out of episodes to watch, the boy suggests they retreat to his bedroom. Derek is hesitant, but lets himself be persuaded under the condition they set an alarm in order to make sure he’s out of Stiles’ room before the Sheriff returns from his shift.

 

When they’re snuggled up on the too small mattress, the boy sighs and squeezes Derek.

 

“This is so weird. I can’t believe I actually ended up being in a relationship with you!”

 

Derek squints at him.

 

“What, you’ve thought about it before?”

 

“Oh yeah,” Stiles affirms, waggling his eyebrows. “Even back when I was just discovering what my dick was good for, I often thought about you. I bet you and Dad both thought I was up here playing with Lego when, in reality, I was jerking off so hard, thinking about how you looked shirtless. God, all the boners I popped when you strutted around the garden only wearing those damn shorts!”

 

Sputtering in an unflattering manner, Derek tries to recall those occasions, before he left for New York. Back then he never would have connected Stiles with any kind of sexual behavior, so it stands to reason he had no idea what the kid’s deviant mind was up to.

 

Guffawing pulls him out of his reverie. Stiles is laughing so hard he’s almost crying now and Derek growls, pinching the boy on the good shoulder. When Stiles turns to him with a yelp, Derek smirks, but it slides off again quickly, when the boy displays his amazing maturity by poking out his tongue, grimacing.

 

“Go to sleep, moron,” Derek huffs. He’s determined to ignore the fact the sentence comes out much more fond than not. The pleased smile on the boy’s face as he burrows under his blankets says he heard, as well.

 

 

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Thanks to painkillers and helpful friends, Stiles is soon up and about again. There are no physical long term effects from the injuries and apart from Stiles not wanting to shake his head for a while, the boy seems to be recovering well.

 

Following a couple weeks of sneaking short meetings and hurried handjobs, they are both getting sick and tired of the charade. They miss each other and Derek’s bed feels way too big without Stiles there. Actually, his whole _life_ does as well.

 

In sheer desperation, Stiles tells his father he was invited to a movie night at Derek’s place and has been allowed to sleep over on the couch. The Sheriff agrees after preaching about avoiding dark, nasty alleys and making sure Stiles has pepper spray, just in case. Arguing that his injuries are already healed and the guys who did it are locked up, does not mollify his dad one bit. Promising not to go anywhere without Derek does, though.

 

The first thing the boy does when Derek lets him in, is lean in for a kiss and then he groans, long and suffering, before flopping onto the couch.

 

“We have to tell Dad soon, otherwise I’m gonna go crazy! It sucks not being able to kiss you and hug you when I finally do see you. Also, my dick is experiencing severe sex withdrawal!”

 

Well, Stiles always says Derek’s eyebrows are very eloquent, so he lets them do the talking for him.

 

“What?” Stiles squawks, indignant, “It’s totally a thing! Derek-withdrawal! Very serious issue, let me tell you!”

 

Derek snorts and rolls his eyes like he always does, and Stiles glares.

 

“You’re doing that thing where you think I’m batshit crazy, but won’t tell me out loud for fear I’ll fail to put out,” he pouts, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

At that, Derek laughs. Then he ruffles Stiles’ hair and goes to fetch a take-out menu.

 

“You wanna order a pizza? That way we don’t have to cook, we can use the time for ah... _other_ things?” He makes sure to add an eyebrow waggle, because it melts Stiles every damn time.

 

“Nuh uh, mister. I am not falling for your schemes! Pizza is great, but you and your dick can stay on the other side of the couch tonight!” Stiles sniffs, turning his nose up.

 

Pretending to accept defeat, Derek sinks into the couch on the far end, sprawling so the boy has a clear sight of his groin. He’s been well on the way to half hard ever since Stiles walked in the door, and it shows. He sees the boy cast furtive glances at his crotch and feels sure it won’t take long before he caves in.

 

Not half an hour later, they are having mind-blowing sex almost on top of their meat lover’s pizza, Stiles holding on to the edge of the coffee table for dear life. Their moans and cries permeate the room and Derek hopes none of his neighbours feel like spreading rumors around town.

 

When they’re collapsed, spent and satisfied, Derek only just manages to flip the lid on the pizza box and grab a piece before he slumps down on top of Stiles again. He shares the slice, taking a bite himself and then offering it to Stiles, back and forth. They munch their way through the entire thing in a surprisingly short time, considering they are like the embodiments of lazy and sloppy at this point.

 

“We should go to bed,” Stiles mumbles from under him.

 

“Yeah,” Derek agrees, “but a shower first, I’d say. Don’t wanna ruin my sheets.”

 

He receives an impressive stink-eye in return.

 

“Too much work,” the boy grumbles.

 

“If you get up and into the shower now, I will rim you till you come so hard your legs give out,” Derek offers, voice husky and full of dirty, nasty promise.

 

Before he can even begin to get up himself, Stiles has shoved him off and raced off for the bathroom like the energizer bunny on speed.

 

“Come on. Up, you lazy ass!” he bellows back through the door.

 

Since there’s no one around to see Derek’s smirk of victory, he gives it free rein.

 

 

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	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the last regular chapter. Next one is the epilogue.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

 

**Chapter 7**

 

While putting the finishing touches on the rebuilt Hale house, they agree the best solution is to invite the Sheriff over for dinner to tell him about their relationship. The location is remote enough that there won’t be any neighbours to hear the inevitable shouting and ranting.

 

Stiles is far too optimistic about his father’s reaction, thinking the Sheriff will recognize and acknowledge their connection and, as a result, be less enraged about the sneaking and lying. Derek is doubtful.

 

They start to move Derek’s things out from his apartment. All the while, the boy chatters in excitement about the lazy mornings and the cozy evenings they’ll enjoy on the new porch and it dawns on Derek; Stiles is talking as if he’s gonna live in the house with him! While he’d very much like that, perhaps it would be moving things a bit fast? Also, now would probably be a good time to find out about the boy’s plans for college. For a second, Derek wonders why John hasn’t already bragged all over town. Stiles is no doubt smart enough to get in wherever he wants.

 

When he asks though, Stiles tips his head like a confused puppy.

 

“I know I’m a nerd, but I’ve never had any ambitions to go off to MIT or anything fancy like that. Ever since I was little, I’ve wanted to follow in my dad’s footsteps. Well, not precisely, but I’ve always wanted to catch bad guys and not necessarily in the hands on way, because let’s face it - if I was chasing a perp, I’d faceplant before I ever got within ten feet of the guy! Or girl, you know, because women can be criminals too! I just... wow, got off track there... Um, yeah, so I plan to go to the Police Academy and the local college for some Criminal Justice classes. Later, I might want to move on to Crime Scene Investigator, that’d be really awesome. But, we’ll see. Anyway, I’m staying right here for now, so...”

 

Suddenly, Stiles blanches, all color draining from his face and he turns wide eyes on Derek.

 

“Shit, I never even asked if you wanted to live with me, did I? I just assumed we’d live together and we never talked about it! Fuck, I’m sorry! I... I actually don’t know what to say right now! This is so embarrassing!” the boy squeaks, smacking a palm over his face.

 

Derek reaches out to remove the hand and pulls Stiles in close.

 

“Take a breath before you faint,” he snorts, squeezing the boy’s shoulders. Stiles only manages a half-hearted glare, so he knows he needs to respond to the actual issue.

 

“I think we need to talk about this more - how it would work with us both living here - but there’s a reason I let you bully me into buying that damn huge bed! Of course I want you to be here with me, but you’re very young to jump into a serious, committed relationship, Stiles. Your dad will think so, too. Not that I think you aren’t capable of handling it, but maybe you should live a bit first. Party and get drunk like all the other guys your age-”

 

He’s cut off, when Stiles raises a hand to pinch his lips together, a frown marring his expression.

 

“Derek, if you think I want to spend my evenings in a crowded room, slowly going deaf from the blaring techno, drowning countless brain cells in alcohol, you’re severely mistaken! If that’s the definition of ‘living’ I’m not sure I want to! I would much rather be with you or my dad or Scott. I don’t need parties to be happy or feel like I’m doing something with my life! And I certainly don’t need alcohol! I’ve seen what it does to my dad, so yeah, not so much with the drinking.”

 

Taking a deep, weary breath, Stiles rubs a hand over his face. Meanwhile, Derek just _stares_. He really should stop calling Stiles a boy, even in his head, because he’s far more mature than his years suggest.

 

“If you don’t want to live with me at this point, just tell me, and we’ll pretend this conversation never happened. If you do, great. Let’s talk about it... _tomorrow_! I need to get rid of this excess energy, so I’ll take care of those old bookcases you didn’t want moved.”

 

With that, Stiles marches outside and, from the sound of it, starts kicking the rejected furniture apart. Derek spends ten minutes debating with himself how to handle this before he gives up and walks out into the front yard. He finds his boyfriend standing in the midst of a pile of broken wood boards, panting and sweating, but looking quite satisfied.

 

Stepping up behind Stiles, Derek winds his arms around the boy’s waist and tugs him back so they’re pressed against each other. He nuzzles into Stiles’ hair, inhaling his scent. When he squirms, Derek growls and bites his earlobe.

 

“Ouch! Quit eating me, you freak!” Stiles chuckles.

 

Derek emits a happy hum - which _someone_ might be tempted to call a purr, but he would be wrong, _so_ wrong! - before whispering into Stiles’ ear, “Which side of the bed do you want?”

 

“Left,” Stiles replies, leaning into Derek and granting him a soft smile. Those are most precious, Derek finds, since Stiles will dish out the goofy, teasing smiles and the sarcastic, sharp ones without restraint. The small, genuine ones are few and far between and only bestowed upon few individuals. He feels lucky to be included in those.

 

 

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On the day of the big revelation, Stiles arrives in the late afternoon to help with the cooking. The Sheriff is invited for dinner, which puts his arrival at about two hours later. In order to help placate his father, Stiles has agreed to let Derek cook steak, which is something John rarely has these days, what with his cholesterol. Never let it be said Stiles isn’t prepared to fight dirty!

 

They finish the food ahead of schedule and Stiles huddles up close to Derek, sighing.

 

“What are we gonna do if he completely freaks out? I don’t wanna be responsible for giving my dad a heart attack!”

 

“I’m sure he’ll be angry, we _did_ go behind his back after all, but if we take our time explaining and let him rant it out without interrupting, I think we’ll be okay... perhaps... I hope.”

 

“I keep imagining these horror scenarios in my head. Like, what if he refuses to have anything to do with us after this? He’s my dad, I don’t want to ruin his friendship with you and I don’t want to lose him if he can’t handle this,” Stiles murmurs, voice trembling.

 

It takes a few seconds, but then the meaning of those words hits Derek like a kick in the head.

 

“You’d... you’d choose _me_ over your father?” he croaks, awed and, frankly, rather shocked.

 

“Well, I wouldn’t put it like that, exactly... but, yeah. I mean, if he can’t accept the fact we love each other, he’s not the man I’ve always thought he is. I love him, more than anything, and I want to have him in my life, but... you’re _it_ for me, Derek! I want the chance to try and make this work. If he can’t tolerate that...”

 

Stiles trails off, shaking his head. A sudden rush of hunger, an urge to wrap the boy up in his arms and never let him go, overwhelms Derek. He lurches forward and throws his arms around Stiles’ neck, searching out Stiles’ lips with his own for a frantic, heated kiss.

 

Knowing tonight is going to be a vital point in their relationship, regardless of the the way it turns out, adds a touch of desperation to their actions. Stiles claws at Derek’s shoulder and he instantly picks up the boy and flings him onto the kitchen table, already tearing at each others clothes.

 

“We really shouldn’t do this,” Derek whines as he bites and sucks at Stiles’ collarbones.

 

“Shut up and fuck me, we both need this!” Stiles gasps, digging his fingers into Derek’s ass, trying to pull him in closer to gain some friction.

 

“Your dad will be here in an hour,” Derek hisses, though he doesn’t even pause in licking and sucking on the boy’s nipples. Stiles lets his head fall back, moaning beautifully, mouth slack. He looks gorgeous and _sinful_ and Derek can’t get enough.

 

“Plenty of time, I’m not gonna last long anyway,” Stiles pants, kicking his jeans off all the way.

 

In very short order, they are both naked, grinding into each other. Derek can’t recall the last time he was so close to the edge, simply from rubbing against another. When Stiles braces his legs and shoves up, it sends actual sparks up Derek’s spine. He groans, loud and wanton, lowering his head to kiss and lick at the tender skin on the boy’s neck. Desperate for release, Derek bucks his hips hard and fast, making their cocks slide together, the glide made easier by the sweat accumulated between them.

 

They are both so preoccupied they don’t hear the crunch of gravel, signaling the arrival of a car.

 

Neither hears the car door slam or the footsteps across the new porch.

 

Not even when a perfunctory knock sounds and the door opens do they notice anything.

 

As the Sheriff walks in through the hall, aiming for the kitchen, Derek bites hard into Stiles’ shoulder, using his hands to hitch the boy’s legs up around his waist. Stiles hooks his ankles behind Derek’s back and whimpers.

 

“Oh, _fuck!_ Derek!”

 

When Derek buries his head in the crook of Stiles’ neck, shoving his throbbing, leaking cock along the sweaty groove of the boy’s hip, the Sheriff reaches the doorway and stops dead at the sight. The box of cupcakes he’s carrying tilts precariously and the only reason he’s isn’t screaming and raging is the fact he’s frozen solid.

 

Though he doesn’t know it yet, Derek catches a lucky break in the form of Stiles choosing that exact moment to moan like he’s just been presented with a gift card for unlimited supply of curly fries. Not aware of their audience, Derek whimpers and kisses the line of Stiles’ jaw, humping in frantic motions, making the table creak and groan.

 

“God, _yes_ , Derek, yes! Come on me!”

 

Even though it seems impossible, Derek picks up his pace, oblivious to their horrified spectator. He can feel his orgasm closing in, his body tingling and buzzing. Stiles has now upgraded to whimpering on every thrust, the sounds slowly morphing to little _‘Oh, oh, oh’_ s. With his hands buried in Derek’s hair, Stiles gasps, shudders and comes with a choked-off cry, his cock exploding between them. Derek can feel the slick heat on his own dick, adding extra lubrication as it mixes with their sweat. Just two erratic lunges of his hips later Derek’s orgasm roars through his body, leaving him panting and shaking. He clings to Stiles since, at this precise moment, it feels like the boy is the only thing keeping him together and whole.

 

“I love you,” Derek murmurs, his words muffled into the hickey stained skin of Stiles’ throat.

 

The arms around his shoulder squeeze tight for a moment, before trailing up and down his back in a soothing caress.

 

“Love you, too,” Stiles replies, voice soft.

 

All of a sudden, Derek remembers why they are here and what tonight’s supposed to be. There’s a terrifying lurch in his gut and he yanks himself up, heart starting to pound.

 

“Shit, we need to get cleaned up, your dad-”

 

That’s as far as Derek gets before he’s vertical enough to catch sight of the Sheriff standing in the doorway with a thunderous expression. Derek hasn’t seen this particular face since John caught a man trying to fondle his little niece. For a second, he’s sure John is about to whip out his gun and simply shoot him on the spot, but then the rage gives way to betrayal and hurt, and those are so much worse.

 

“Derek, what-” Stiles starts, then stops with a choked noise when he follows Derek’s line of sight and sees his father.

 

They both scramble to get decent in record time, hauling up underwear and practically jumping into their jeans. In the middle of the desperate redressing act, the Sheriff seems to unfreeze and he marches over, getting right in Derek’s face.

 

“What the fuck is this?” John booms, his face taking on an alarming shade of purple, a vein throbbing on his forehead. “Stiles is only a kid! He’s my son! I fucking _trusted_ you!”

 

Shaking his head, panic worming into his mind, Derek opens his mouth to protest, to try to explain, but the Sheriff is not having any of it.

 

“How did you get him to do this? Huh? What did you do to him?” John roars, fisting his hands in Derek’s half buttoned shirt and shaking him, like a dog would a toy.

 

“I didn’t-”

 

Sharp pain blooms in Derek’s jaw and he staggers back. He’s only just realizing that John _punched_ him when he loses his balance and topples over. All the air in his lungs is forced out on impact with the floor and as he’s wheezing for breath, he registers that Stiles is screaming. The boy flings himself in front of Derek, ranting at his father, fists clenched by his sides and his whole body shaking in anger.

 

“ _No_! Don’t you dare touch Derek again, Dad! Who the fuck do you think you are?”

 

John pauses, baffled by the defensive behavior, and fixes Stiles with a pleading gaze.

 

“Stiles, just calm down, we’ll talk about this at home. I’m not happy with you right now, but the blame lies on Derek.”

 

“No, it doesn’t!” Stiles screams. “I’ve had a crush on him ever since I was like eleven years old! He didn’t start this, I did!”

 

The last part is kind of stretching the truth a little, Derek thinks as he tries to persuade his lungs to suck in enough air for him to speak up. In reality, they both just sort of gravitated towards each other, but perhaps knowing that Derek wasn’t the aggressor is what John needs to hear right now, so Derek lets it go.

 

“You _what_?” John questions in a dangerous tone.

 

“ _I_ started it!” Stiles declares, lifting his chin in defiance. “I came on to Derek. We decided to hide it because we didn’t wanna cause trouble. We were going to tell you tonight after dinner,” the boy declares, his posture deflating. “You were _not_ supposed to find out like this!”

 

The Sheriff glances between them with a wounded look on his face, like his two favorite people just turned out to be imposters. Which, in effect, might as well be true.

 

“I’m so sorry, John,” Derek says when he gets his breath back. “I never meant for this to happen, and I felt so bad about doing this to you, I just...”

 

“Couldn’t keep your dick away from my son’s ass?” John sneers, refusing to look at him.

 

Of course, this is when Stiles’ inappropriate sense of humor chooses to insert itself into the situation.

 

“Hey! I fuck him, too!” the boy proclaims, leering at Derek.

 

John looks like he doesn’t know whether he wants to cry, laugh or shoot someone.

 

“ _Really_ , Stiles? You couldn’t find someone your own age? You had to choose one of my best friends to be your... fuckbuddy?” John spits the last word like it’s a bad taste on his tongue.

 

Derek knows his face is reflecting how confused he feels and Stiles reels back like he’s been slapped.

 

“ _What_?” Stiles screeches, expression contorted into a mix of indignation and bewilderment. “Fuckbuddy? What gave you that ludicrous idea?”

 

In front of them, John’s angry frown is faltering, though the sneer stays in place.

 

“Well, the obscene display you two were putting on when I arrived was my first clue.”

 

Stiles’ eyes narrow.

 

“Don’t you get smart with me! I’m the king of sarcasm, you will lose _so_ fast!”

 

“Well, I don’t know how else to tackle this freaking disaster!”

 

“How about you listen to us instead of accusing us of fucking around behind your back for laughs? Do you honestly think I would ever do that to you?”

 

There’s something in Stiles’ tone now, which makes Derek’s eyes snap to his face. Even though it seems like an ordinary argument, there’s a genuine inquiry hidden in there. Stiles’ gaze is hard and calculating, staring at his father. In Derek’s mind, there’s no doubt that the answer will play a big part in determining what John and Stiles’ relationship will be like in the future. Stiles may be goofy and act like the comic relief, but he’s smart and sharp. He’s well aware of his own boundaries, and Derek knows the boy will not be able to just let it go, if John admits to genuinely believing they were just fucking around with no regard for his feelings.

 

Long minutes pass, before John’s aggressive stance slumps and he falls onto a chair, letting out a weary sigh.

 

“What _is_ this, then?”

 

“We love each other,” Stiles declares, without missing a single beat or even fidgeting.

 

When the Sheriff directs a searching look upon Derek, silently asking him to confirm or deny, Derek steps up next to Stiles and nods. Tense silence follows before John gets up and croaks, “I need to think about this, _alone_ , so I’m gonna pass on dinner.”

 

Neither Stiles nor Derek utter a single word as the Sheriff walks out and slams the door. They wait until the noise of the car engine is fading down the driveway, before turning to each other.

 

“Fuck,” Stiles mumbles. Derek agrees, very much so.

 

Eventually, they eat some of the food, not really tasting it, but chewing and swallowing on routine anyway. After that, they fall onto the couch and end up watching a Stephen King marathon. Carrie, Misery and The Shining, before wrapping it up with The Green Mile. Derek takes mercy on Stiles when he pretends not to get misty-eyed as the mouse, Mr. Jingles, is killed. He wraps the boy up in his arms and plants a gentle kiss on his temple.

 

Despite their best efforts, they both fall asleep before the movie ends.

 

 

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A ray of sunlight streaming across his face, is what wakes Derek up the next morning. He blinks against the bright light and grimaces as he becomes aware of the foul taste in his mouth. Apparently, falling asleep without brushing your teeth after eating steak and garlic bread, is a very bad idea.

 

Stiles is sprawled across Derek’s chest, an arm hanging off the side of the couch and his right knee jammed into Derek’s side, putting an uncomfortable pressure on his full bladder. He tries to lift Stiles off without waking him up in order to go to the bathroom, but the boy clings like a particularly stubborn piece of velcro. A fond smile sneaks its way onto Derek’s face as Stiles mumbles some half formed words and turns his head, smearing drool in a streak across Derek’s shoulder. Huffing a laugh, he untangles himself and gets up from the couch. As he straightens, he throws a quick look around the room and nearly has a freaking heart attack; John is sitting in the armchair in the corner, his expression pinched.

 

Not knowing how to react, Derek simply stares at him, throwing nervous glances towards the couch where Stiles is still slouching, only clad in his boxers.

 

John sighs.

 

“I’m not gonna shoot you, Derek!”

 

“Uh, thanks?”

 

John snorts and furrows his brow.

 

“This was a huge shock for me, and I might as well come right out and tell you, I don’t like it one bit! But... I know my son, and Stiles is not one to throw his affection at people without knowing they’re worth the effort. He may think I don’t know, but ever since his mother died, he’s been scared of letting new people get too close to him. So, this is progress, however much I wish it hadn’t happened.”

 

The Sheriff rubs a hand over his face and then straightens, fixing Derek with a stern glare.

 

“I just need to know one thing, Derek. Do you love Stiles? Are you _in love_ with him?”

 

Somehow, Derek hadn’t expected this question, though it should have been glaringly obvious it would be John’s main concern once he’d gotten over the initial shock.

 

“I do and I am,” is Derek’s instant response. He puts as much fervor into his voice as possible, not wanting John to doubt him on this.

 

After a brief staring contest, the Sheriff breaks eye contact, glancing once more at his son, who’s still passed out on the couch. A rush of affection swirls in Derek’s gut when he looks at the boy. John seems to lean towards not cutting either of them out of his life, and it might be wishful thinking, but Derek almost dares hope John will see how committed he and Stiles are to each other.

 

Another thing troubling Derek, is how his friendship with the Sheriff will suffer from his relationship with Stiles. He’s not stupid enough to believe they will get the closeness back anytime soon, but he needs to ask.

 

“John, are we gonna be okay? I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, but I value your friendship very much and I don’t want to lose it. I completely understand if you need some space for a while, just let me know, okay?”

 

Instead of answering, John gets up from the chair and walks towards the door.

 

“Tell Stiles to be home for lunch, yeah?”

 

Then, he leaves. The lack of response hurts, but Derek gets it. He does.

 

 

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Come Monday, the atmosphere at the station is tense and uncomfortable. Derek can feel the Sheriff’s burning gaze on him every time the man ventures out from his office. His colleagues clearly feel their changed attitudes and are confused by it, but Derek ducks his head and refuses to explain. More than likely, John doesn’t want it known that his son is sleeping with one of his deputies.

 

During lunch break, Boyd tries to ask Derek what the deal is, but he deflects, managing to get the conversation steered another way. Boyd isn’t fooled, but he seems to be willing to let it go, for now at least.

 

When Derek gets home, Stiles is there, having invaded the kitchen. He’s got flour all over, including in his hair and he looks ridiculous, but Derek doesn’t even have the energy to laugh. Stiles takes one look at him and hurries over, wrapping him up in a big hug.

 

“So, you formed an acquaintance with Dad’s patented Glare of Doom today?”

 

“Capitalized and everything,” Derek snorts, pasting on a tired smile with his remaining strength.

 

“Yup,” Stiles says, popping the p. “I’m pretty sure it’s a Stilinski special.”

 

“Great,” Derek grumbles, slouching into a chair at the kitchen table.

 

“Well, look at the bright side. The fact he’s even giving you the glare is a good sign! It means you haven’t screwed up so badly he’s given up on you. Believe me, if that was the case, he’d be giving you the extra frosty, cold shoulder. If he’s glaring, he’s caring. Or you know, something to that effect.”

 

Derek laughs. He can’t not. This boy really is unique. He can make Derek smile and laugh even on his worst days and that’s a damn marvelous ability to have. Every time the boy proves this fact, Derek falls a little more in love with him.

 

After putting some delicious looking cupcakes in the oven, Stiles adjusts the timer and then drags Derek into the bedroom. The boy pushes him down on the mattress and before Derek can even ask a simple _What are we doing?_ , Stiles has his dick out of his pants and his lips wrapped around the head, sucking happily. Derek grunts in surprise and then just flops down on the mattress, enjoying the sensations.

 

 

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The turning point comes about a week after their very enjoyable afternoon of sex and cupcakes in bed.

 

A mugging that happened the night before has Derek buried in paperwork and he’s almost frantic, trying to keep up with everything. He’s stress-sweating, wiping his brow, when a shadow falls over his desk. He looks up to see John standing there, an unreadable expression on his face.

 

“Yes?” Derek inquires.

 

“Dinner, my house, seven o’clock,” John states, before grabbing half the forms on Derek’s desk and walking off with them. Derek is still gaping as the Sheriff bellows over his shoulder, “Bring dessert too, it’s the least you can do after sleeping with my son behind my back! And none of that low-fat, low-cal stuff; I want whipped cream and jam!”

 

Everybody in the _entire_ station is staring at Derek, with expressions varying from incredulous to scandalized to a disturbing leer - Derek always knew Mrs. Johnson, the old archivist, was a pervert - and he can feel a magnificent blush spreading on his cheeks. Well, cat’s out of the bag now.

 

Derek would be offended, but the truth is he feels more relief than anything else. He might not be completely out of the woods yet, but it at least seems like he’s found the right path. John is, no doubt, going to make sure it’s a veritable minefield for Derek to navigate, but at least he’s getting a chance to try.

 

When he dares look up again, Boyd is staring at him with awed disbelief.

 

“Dude, do you have a death wish? The boss’s son?”

 

Attempting a smile, Derek shrugs and answers, “It just kinda happened.”

 

To his surprise, Boyd lights up like a christmas tree and punches Derek’s shoulder.

 

“Hey! Now you can go on a double date with me and Erica. There’s this great little bistro downtown. They serve this really great tenderloin...”

 

Boyd goes on and on about the amazing food, but all Derek hears is acceptance, and he finally lets himself be happy about his life, messed up as it is.

 

That night he goes to sleep with Stiles by his side, an awkward, but mostly positive evening with John behind them. Despite the obvious delicacy of the situation, they all managed to be civil and at the end of the night, John offered his hand to Derek in a weird, formal way. Derek took it no matter, not wanting to discourage any contact with his friend. For a long moment, they just looked at each other. Then, John muttered a gruff, “We’ll be all right.”

 

Stiles blew out a long-suffering sigh, rolling his eyes at them, but doesn’t succeed in hiding his happy grin fast enough. Derek knows the boy was feeling immensely guilty about what his and Derek’s relationship had done to the friendship of his father and boyfriend.

 

Even though they aren’t moving in together officially until Stiles starts college in the fall - Stiles turns nineteen before then and the Sheriff begged them to wait - the boy spends most nights at Derek’s house. One of the conditions John demanded be upheld in order for him to accept their relationship, was that he never, ever be anywhere near when they engage in any form of sexual activity. Stiles had looked kind of sickened at the prospect of his dad seeing him have sex - again - and they both agreed without fuss.

 

As Derek falls asleep, a smile on his face, Stiles snuggles close, no doubt in order to be able to drool on Derek’s chest properly.

 

Derek finds he doesn’t mind at all.

 

 

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	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the epilogue, the last chapter in this one folks :) I hope it won't disappoint.

 

 

**Epilogue**

 

_Six years later._

 

An upbeat melody rips Derek out of his stupor and he rights himself from where he was slumped on the couch. His phone is vibrating across the coffee table, spewing the lyrics of Kelis’ _Milkshake_ as it goes.

 

_My milkshake brings all the boy’s to the yard-_

 

Derek rolls his eyes, reaching out for the damn thing. He knows who the culprit is, because Stiles sees it as a special challenge to find a new song to set as the ringtone on Derek’s phone every time it’s left unattended. He always chooses annoying, peppy songs, often with slightly offensive or provocative lyrics, that are sure to attract the attention of anyone within a half mile radius of wherever Derek’s at when his phone goes off.

 

_And they’re like, it’s better than yours. Damn right, it’s better than-_

 

Derek grabs the phone and jabs the accept call button,“Yeah?”

 

“Hi, Derek, Matthews here,” the tinny voice on the other end of the line states. “Can you tell me where you left the files for the Keller case? Boss wants them done today after all.”

 

When Derek had gone home at four when his shift ended, John had told him the Keller case was in no rush, so he’d left it on his own desk, intending to continue working on it the next day. He had left Stiles at the station, buried in a case of his own. The boy had joined the staff at the station as soon as he was qualified, fresh from the Academy, and had a running start, being thrown into an ongoing investigation of a shady dry cleaning business on the edge of town. Everybody knew something extra was going on behind the front there, but so far, they’d had no luck uncovering the truth.

 

Since he seemed so consumed with the work, Derek hadn’t asked Stiles to go home at the time, but now it’s nearing six o’clock and they are supposed to have dinner.

 

“Left the case files on my desk. Oh, and Matthews? Can you tell Stiles to get off his ass and go home?”

 

There’s silence at the other end for a few beats and then a hesitant voice replies, “He, uh... he raced off like a bat outta Hell ten minutes after you left. We figured he wanted some lovin’ tonight! He’s not home yet?”

 

“No,” Derek mutters, fighting his instinctual urge to jump to the worst conclusion right away. What if Stiles got hurt on the way home? What if something happened to him? No need to drag Matthews into it though, so he continues, “He probably stopped over at Scott’s and forgot the time. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Bye.”

 

After he’s hung up, Derek can feel the worry starting to creep up on him. After he’s called both John and Scott and confirmed that Stiles is neither at his father’s nor his friend’s place and no one has heard from him, the worry begins morphing into panic.

 

Trying to think back over the last few weeks, looking for any inconsistencies or weird occurrences, Derek realizes something. Stiles has been acting suspiciously on several occasions. It’s never been enough so Derek had been disturbed by the individual incident, but if he looks at things from a bigger perspective, it paints another picture. Stiles has been nervous and jittery, more secretive than usual and a few times, he’s been going outside for phone calls, even though he used to let Derek in on every little thing he as much as contemplated.

 

Feeling his stomach sinking, he attempts to not connect the dots here. He’s read enough sad, authentic sob stories to know what these behaviors are usually a sign of. Derek just never thought it’d happen to him and Stiles. Despite having been together for close to seven years, their spark is as fierce and as passionate as it was in the beginning. Granted, they might have settled into an everyday life instead of the raging fire of new love, but there’s been nothing to indicate to Derek that Stiles was growing unhappy with their life together. He kind of thought it was the opposite, in fact.

 

Perhaps he should have kept the boy from committing himself so fast, should have encouraged Stiles to go off to a big city, trying the _real_ college life. Forced him to live a little more before deciding to grow old with his first boyfriend.

 

With the realization he was Stiles’ first in everything, comes a horrible thought: _Did I unwittingly make Stiles give up on a better, bigger future?_ All of a sudden, Derek feels sick and he tumbles into the hallway, grabs his running shoes and bolts out the door and into the woods.

 

The awful doubt of whether or not Stiles is happy with his life haunts Derek. He sprints along the paths, his pulse thundering, sweat running down his back as his burning muscles strain with the effort. His usual route of five miles fly by in a blur and he’s only used half the time he normally would, when he breaks free of the trees and into the yard. When he rounds the house, he sees the familiar Jeep in the open garage. This one is a charcoal grey; the old, blue rust pile died in Stiles’ final year of college.

 

Relief wells up in Derek and he bursts through the door. He finds Stiles in the kitchen, cooking something that smells an awful lot like enchiladas, humming along to the radio. As the door slams, Stiles’ head snaps up and he beams at Derek.

 

“Hi, did you have a good run?”

 

Ignoring the question, Derek grunts, “Where were you?”

 

“I was at work.”

 

“Until now?” Derek inquires, tone carefully neutral.

 

“Yeah, of course!”

 

The sick feeling returns with a vengeance and Derek has to swallow to ensure he won’t puke on the floor.

 

Managing to keep his features blank, he sneers, “Funny, because Matthews said you left right after I did when he called an hour ago to ask for the Keller file.”

 

Not even wanting to hear any excuses or explanations right now, Derek spins on his heels and marched up the stairs towards the bedroom. He hears Stiles yelping and calling out after him, but he chooses to ignore it, grabbing a towel and heading for a shower.

 

As he yanks his clothes off, uncaring about tearing the shirt, which is one Stiles gave him a few years back, he hears what sounds like ten elephants trampling up the stairs. He almost lets out an amused snort before he remembers that he absolutely does _not_ find Stiles adorable at the moment. He steps under the spray, his chest aching and his lungs feeling like there’s a steel band tightening around them.

 

“Derek!” Stiles calls through the door. “Please, can I come in? I’m sorry I lied, you’re right, I wasn’t at work... I just wanted... Ugh, I’m coming in!”

 

Derek doesn’t get a chance to protest, because Stiles charges into the bathroom and yanks the shower curtain open. He has an unhappy, intense expression but he doesn’t seem guilty, per se. This revelation makes Derek pause. Is he overreacting? Why would Stiles lie if it wasn’t a bad thing, though?

 

In the end, he growls, “Why did you lie? You know I can’t stand that shit!”

 

Right away, Stiles looks absolutely crestfallen.

 

“I’m so sorry, it wasn’t even a big deal, I just wanted it to be a surprise. How was I to know stupid fucking Matthews would ruin it?” Stiles exclaims, his voice wobbling. Alarm bells start going off in Derek’s head. Stiles never cries - apart from at movies, which is a never-ending source of embarrassment to him - and Derek has no clue about how to handle it. Also, it tells him he should stop and listen right about now.

 

When Stiles doesn’t say anything, Derek repeats, “You wanted to surprise me?”

 

In response, Stiles huffs a humorless laugh.

 

“Yeah, which is, in hindsight, the stupidest idea I’ve ever had, but you know,” Stiles says, shrugging, “I get a lot of those.”

 

Derek raises his eyebrows, one corner of his mouth twitching up in a sort of crooked smile. About two minutes pass in silence, before Stiles seems to pull himself together. Out of nowhere, the kid steps under the spray, fully clothed, and drops down on one knee in front of Derek.

 

“Derek Hale, I love you with all my heart and I can’t imagine spending even a single day without seeing your grumpy, gorgeous face. So... will you marry me?”

 

Gaping isn’t attractive, Derek knows this, yet he _can’t_ stop! This was not even close to what he might have imagined, even if he’d been listing positive reasons for the mysterious behavior. He’s flailing and choking, accidentally inhales some water, which makes him cough and sputter. Stiles stays on his knee on the floor, the spray gradually soaking his clothes and plastering his hair to his skull, dragging it into his eyes.

 

His brain is struggling to adjust to the fact Stiles is asking for further commitment instead of looking for a way out. Stiles actually wants to _marry_ him! Holy shit! He can feel the knot of tension in his stomach dissolve, a warmth spreading through his chest in its place.

 

He smiles at Stiles, his face practically split in half by his huge grin.

 

“You’re such an idiot.”

 

Stiles frowns from his position on the floor.

 

“Was that a yes or a no?”

 

Ignoring the fact he’s a big, old cliché, Derek throws himself into Stiles’ arms and mashes their lips together. While continuously diving back in for kisses, Derek murmurs a string of exuberant _yeses._

 

Derek isn’t ashamed to admit they end up soaking his bed. First with water from the shower he didn’t finish and later with disgusting amounts of sweat and come. There’s a certain intensity about their movements, the way Stiles refuses to break eye contact and the way Derek holds him close as he thrusts with long, deep strokes. They retain almost full body contact, fingers clutching and digging into skin, all the way through. They come almost simultaneously, muffling their cries into heated kisses.

 

When they lie sated and boneless, enjoying the afterglow, Derek contemplates the days’ events and he can’t keep his mouth shut any longer.

 

“You refuse to make it easy for yourself, huh?”

 

After rolling his eyes in a dramatic fashion, Stiles retaliates by biting Derek’s nipple. He swears and swats the boy’s head. The idiot merely laughs and licks the same spot before declaring, “At least we’ll have something to tell the grandkids.”

 

 

**~ The End ~**

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed :)
> 
> As always, I'd love to hear your opinion and kudos make me happy!


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